A Sun Never Set
by catsvrsdogscatswin
Summary: The Roman Empire rules almost all of the known world; to fill its endless ranks of soldiers, all males are required to join the militia corps. The Aureus are a beaten people who live on the fringes of the ever-expanding Empire, slaves in all but name. Authority must be obeyed; or it must be overthrown. When an Aureus sneaks into the corps, the old order begins to crumble.
1. Train to Imperium

_**I'm, like, back in the Hetalia fandom. Soooo…this story is going to be a mix of historical and AU elements, and I'm going to try for maybe-pairings here too. The title is a reference to a phrase often used to describe the 19**_ _ **th**_ _ **century imperialistic British Empire, which is actually literal, because the British Empire and all of its colonies covered so vast an area that it was always daytime in some British-owned place. Scary huh? The British Empire was also the biggest empire in recorded history. (Points for Iggy.) Anyway, the "Roman Empire" in this story is basically a combination of all the worst governments/nations/regimes in our history –its leaders and governmental body being all sexist, corrupt, violent, cruel, so on and so forth. (This is also obviously an AU, since it's going to be all future-istic-y too.) And about the Aureus, their racial type (and the Hetalia characters that are Aureus) are basically a conglomerate of the Nordic and East Europeans, who always seem to get the worst of things in wars and hostile regimes (see Nazism and pretty-much-any-European-conflict-ever). Check out the chart at the bottom for the human names of the countries if you don't know who's who.**_

 _ **February 28, 2016**_

 _3_ _rd_ _Person POV:_

 _Whrrm._

 _Whrrm._

 _Whrrrrrrm._

"Ah, c'mon man, how long is this gonna take?!"

Arthur Kirkland's eyes opened sleepily as he lifted his head slightly from the smooth glass window, the blurry colors that filled his vision resolving into the transport's interior. The bulkhead of the sealed transport was some kind of strong grey metal, and the cabin that he was in had just enough room for two padded seats; one for him, and one for-

Arthur's (perfectly proportioned, thank you very much) eyebrows slammed downwards irritably as he recognized the speaker opposite him –and their voice. "Just my luck that I'd get placed in a unit with _you_." he said grouchily, watching the other young blonde practically bouncing up and down in his seat with barely-suppressed energy.

"Dude, aren't you _excited_?" Alfred F. Jones, Arthur's former neighbor, current best friend, and personal nuisance asked excitedly, using a finger to push his square-rimmed glasses up as his sapphire-colored eyes sparkled. "We finally get to go out on base training!"

Arthur snorted silently and looked back out of the window. The grey, dead fields that the transport vehicle had driven into several hours ago were still there, the trees hard and bare, and the ground covered in soot, ash, and rolling craters. A few limp strands of grass struggled to burst out of the rocky plain, but were ultimately doomed to failure. Arthur could feel his spirits sink just _looking_ at what would be their surroundings for the next few years, which was partially the reason he had fallen asleep earlier.

"If this is the kind of excitement we'll get, I think I'd prefer staying at home." he muttered, turning his head away from the depressing view. "We're too close to the blasted mountains and their-" He cut himself off, watching silently as an Aureus, distinctive with the crescent-moon forehead brand, entered their cabin and began picking up discarded fast-food bags and candy wrappers that had most likely come from Alfred. Arthur's lip curled as he watched it. "My point exactly. Why is _that_ here?" he spat.

Alfred barely glanced to the side as the Aureus began dusting off the table that sat between him and Arthur. "What, you prefer a 'bot to do the work?" he teased, ripping the top off of an energy drink and chugging it as the Aureus finished and continued cleaning up. "Cause they can't do this." he added as he carelessly tossed the garbage over his shoulder, and the Aureus silently caught it, placing it in their collection bag.

Arthur gave the Aureus –a thin young woman with hollow eyes and dirty, matted hair– a deeply irritated look. "I don't see why the government can't keep them in the mines or the factories where they belong." he scoffed, folding his arms, and Alfred shrugged.

"Well, you're gonna have to get used to them." he said with a serious expression, a rarity for him, and Arthur raised an eyebrow, making the other elaborate. "They're gonna be working for us in the base –the compound. This is like right at the edge of civilization, remember? We can't be expected to cook n' clean n' shit while learning to fight, right?" Alfred asked rhetorically, resting his cheek on one hand. Arthur sniffed, but had to agree. There were far more important things to do than maintain his food and possessions; his future was in that base, as was Alfred's.

"Didja get your ranking yet?" Alfred asked suddenly, and excitedly rummaged around his white button-down shirt, yanking out his chain and dog tag and practically shoving it up Arthur's nose. "I got mine, see! Isn't it awesome?!"

"Sod off! I can't bloody _see_ it like this!" Arthur snapped, grabbing Alfred's wrist and shoving backwards until he could actually get a proper _look_ at the tag. His eyebrows rose as he considered it.

 **ALFRED F. JONES**

 **AGE: 19**

 **RANK: Soldier**

 **UNIT: Division 23564**

 _Bollocks, we are in the same squad._ Arthur thought, subconsciously slipping a hand inside his pocket to grip his own tag, smoothing his thumb over the flat metal. "So? Wadda ya think?" Alfred asked excitedly, and Arthur clicked his tongue incredulously.

"How did you finagle Soldier with that horrendous sight of yours?" he asked, indicating Alfred's square-rimmed glasses, and the latter touched them reflexively, his face pinkening.

"W-well, the new Texas model is really hard to knock off." he stuttered, then set his jaw defiantly. "Besides, the idea is to shoot the other guy before he gets close enough to touch your glasses. What's _your_ rank?"

Arthur silently took his hand from his pocket and held out his own identification tag. Alfred took it, his blue eyes shifting slightly as he read the raised letters, then snorted with laughter and let it drop to the table, where it clattered loudly against the smooth metal.

 **ARTHUR J. KIRKLAND**

 **AGE: 20**

 **RANK: Intelligence**

 **UNIT: Division 23564**

" _Intelligence_?!" he howled, rocking back and forth and slapping the table with one hand. "You got landed in Intelligence! Y-you're a cheating, no-good, plotting an' planning s-spy!" he cackled, convulsing with more laughter. Arthur scowled at the other man and primly hung the tag back around his own neck.

"There's nothing wrong with being an Intelligence rank." he sniffed as Alfred showed no signs of recovery, still laughing his irritating, obnoxious arse off. "They can rise quite high in the ranks of our noble government."

"But not as high as Soldier." Alfred said quietly, as he abruptly grew serious. "Soldiers can rise to the top." Pure ambition gleamed in those sapphire blue eyes as Alfred looked at Arthur and grinned ferally.

"Soldiers can rise to the _top_."

* * *

 _Whrrm._

 _Whrrm._

 _Whrrrrrrm._

 _Creak._

 _Creak._

 _Creak._

"Gilbert, please stop fidgeting." Ludwig said with less-than-infinite patience, lowering the tablet he had been reading as his elder –his _elder_ – brother continued to rock back and forth, gently drumming his closed fists on the table, anxiously tapping his fingers against the window.

"I can't help it." Gilbert whined, his crimson eyes half-lidded with impatience and irritation. "You're not the one who's threatened with conformity or death."

Ludwig sighed loudly, but couldn't help but (silently) agree with his father. Gilbert needed to be reigned in before he did something dangerous; the most recent familial outrage had been when Gilbert was caught at a party with _Aureus_ and the other dregs of society, drinking and laughing, and their father had had to pay an exorbitant amount of money to avoid public scandal. "Did it ever occur to you that you could oh, I don't know, find _somewhere_ _else_ to have a celebration?" he asked wearily, almost afraid of the answer he would get.

Gilbert laughed the odd, hissing laugh he was known for, baring his teeth in a friendly grin. "Aw, the Aureus aren't that bad." he said casually, kicking his legs up on the table between them. "They sure don't have sticks up their asses like you und _Vati_."

Ludwig contented himself with a disapproving grunt, frowning at his sibling. He felt as if it were his job as the son of Folkert Beilschmidt to remind his _elder_ brother of the place they had in society, but Gilbert, as usual, would probably ignore his advice. He watched as Gilbert continued to fidget, his crimson eyes glaring out at the countryside through the thin curtain of his silver-blonde bangs as his fingers tapped a restless tempo against his bouncing leg. For some reason, Ludwig's normally militant-minded brother was subdued at the thought of attending the military academy they were traveling to at this very moment; he'd been acting like the tag around his neck was some kind of _collar_. Ludwig cast a surreptitious look at the dog tag around Gilbert's neck, glimmering slightly in the sickly green light of the overhead.

 **GILBERT K. BEILSCHMIDT:**

 **AGE: 21**

 **UNIT: Soldier**

 **RANK:** **Division 23564**

"What's your division?" Gilbert suddenly asked, his startling crimson gaze switching over to Ludwig, almost as if he had sensed his brother's curiosity. Ludwig coughed sheepishly, pulling his own tag out from amongst the folds of his shirt.

 **LUDWIG H. BEILSCHMIDT:**

 **AGE: 20**

 **RANK: Soldier**

 **UNIT: Division 37564**

"So we're not in the same unit?" Gilbert asked as he studied Ludwig's tag, getting a suspicious and very familiar gleam in his ruby-red eyes. Ludwig impulsively reached out and grabbed his brother by the shoulder.

"Please. Don't cause any trouble." he pleaded, and Gilbert's eyes flickered with something unreadable, before he dipped his head slightly, hiding them as he gave another one of his unique, hissing chuckles.

"Don't worry _Bruder_ , I'll be as good as gold."

* * *

Luke ducked and dodged the multiple other residents as he headed for the station pickup point, lugging a portal case behind him. His indigo eyes raked the crowd, looking for the easiest opening, and he took it ruthlessly, shoving other people aside using both elbows and his unnaturally-light case, heading for the large glowing military symbol. The huge, sluggish transport vehicle honked loudly, and he cursed under his breath as he ran up to it, throwing his portal case up towards the Aureus and plunging inside the transport just as the doors hissed shut behind him.

He took a moment to pant quietly in the semidarkness, carefully rearranging his bangs and the little t-shaped barrette on one side, and let his heart slow as he rapidly composed himself. Artfully neutral expression in place once more, he pushed open the first door he saw, noticing as he did that the cabin was already occupied by three other people. All of them had varying shades of dark brown hair, and Luke suppressed the urge to run a hand protectively over his own white-block locks. Two of the brunettes seemed very cheery, talking to each other in loud, southern-sea accents, and the third seemed to be asleep, head nodding softly against the vibrating glass panes that gave them a view of the station.

"Is there room?" Luke asked quietly, and the two conscious brunettes stopped chatting and looked up. One, with slightly auburn-brownish hair and an odd side-cowlick, smiled widely, his eyes sparkling. "Vee~, of course! My name's Feliciano, and this is my new friend Antonio!" he said cheerfully, and the aforementioned Antonio, whose hair was slightly darker and curlier than Feliciano's, gave Luke a friendly wave and nodded to the seat opposite of himself and Feliciano, upon which the third male was sleeping. " _Hola mi amigo!_ You can sit down by Karl, over there!" he said happily, and Luke silently took his seat, heaving a mental sigh of relief as the transport finally jolted into motion and the smooth, ruler-edged buildings began to whiz by.

"I'm-a going to be a Nurse, and Antonio's going to be a Soldier!" Feliciano babbled proudly, thrusting out his slightly skinny chest, upon which his shiny new tag glittered metallically. Luke glanced to the side, which Antonio noticed. Feliciano remained oblivious, which seemed to be his natural state.

"Karl over there is going to be a Scout." Antonio explained, smiling gently, and cocked his head to one side as his emerald green eyes landed on Luke's chest. "And what about you, _amigo_?" he asked curiously, indicating Luke's tag, and he subconsciously covered it. "My name is Luke. I'm an Intelligence rank." he said flatly, and was surprised when the other two didn't shift or sweat. Intelligence agents were famous for being ruthless, evil, and backstabbing, despite –or because of– their frequent role as advisors to those in power.

"Vee~, you must be pretty smart." was all Feliciano said, and Antonio merely smiled politely, his eyes closed. Luke hadn't really needed the introduction to figure out Antonio's rank, at least; he had the build typical of most soldiers –muscular and athletic-looking, without any surplus fat or health defects. Luke was somewhat surprised at Feliciano's chosen field though; the Nurse rank was the rank that preformed all the complex surgeries and bloody vivisections that restored their comrades to full health, and the bubbly young man kitty-corner to him seemed likely to faint at the very sight of blood, nevermind, say, having to amputate another man's leg or suture his stomach shut.

Well, to each his own.

"Vee~! Let's see what our-a units are!" Feliciano suddenly chirped excitedly, holding out his tag, and Antonio and Luke mirrored him. Luke held his tag in a certain way, his thumb covering his last name, but that was perfectly normal. It wasn't like any of them had anything to hide.

 **LUKE C. B** (thumb) **:**

 **AGE: 20**

 **RANK: Intelligence**

 **UNIT: Division 37564**

.

 **ANTONIO F. CARRIEDO**

 **AGE: 20**

 **RANK: Soldier**

 **UNIT: Division 37564**

.

 **FELICIANO R. VARGAS**

 **AGE: 19**

 **RANK: Nurse**

 **UNIT:** **Division 23564**

"Vee," Feliciano said sadly, his lower lip sticking out in a pout as his eyes abruptly filled with tears. "You two are in the same unit and I'm-a all by myself."

"Eh, we're all in the same base, _mi amigo_." Antonio said happily, folding his arms behind his head, and Luke looked sideways slightly, checking the tag of the still-sleeping Karl.

 **KARL M. HEOHIL:**

 **AGE: 19**

 **RANK: Scout**

 **UNIT: Division 23564**

"He's in the same division you are." he announced blandly, and Feliciano's face abruptly brightened as he let out a "vee" of joy and began babbling again.

Luke turned his head, and watched the city fly by.

 _ **1.51 PM, USA Central Time**_

* * *

(Everyone's middle name (except America's) are all made up, as anybody in the fandom would know)

 **Alfred Foster Jones:** America

 **Antonio Fernandez Carriedo:** Spain

 **Arthur James Kirkland:** England

 **Feliciano Romulus Vargas:** North Italy.

 **Francis Christopher Bonnerfoy:** France

 **Gilbert Kriegson Beilschmidt:** Prussia

 **Heracles Theo Karpusi:** Greece.

 **Honda Kiku:** Japan. ( _Japanese people also, apparently, don't typically have middle names._ )

 **Ivan Viktor Braginsky:** Russia

 **Karl Marks Heohil:** OC

 **Lovino Romano Vargas:** South Italy/Romano.

 **Ludwig Hans Beilschmidt:** Germany

 **Luke Charles Bondevik:** Norway. ( _I know his name is typically Lukas, but trust me, there's a reason he isn't Lukas_ _ **yet**_ _._ )

 **Matthew Leon Williams:** Canada.

 **Sadiq Tel Adnan:** Turkey.

 **Wang Yao:** China. ( _Chinese people traditionally don't have middle names._ )


	2. Railway Line

_**Oops, I forgot to introduce myself last time. Hello, I'm catsvrsdogscatswin, and this is my second fic in the Hetalia fandom. I am a humoristic author who likes constructive character-violence and happy ends. (Two statements at odds with each other, I know.) For those of you who know me from other stories, this introduction isn't anything new, so I'll shut up about me now. Unlike my last Hetalia fic, I am not planning on including the 2p!s in this story, but if you guys want 'em bad enough, I suppose I could arrange something. There is also going to be foul language and violence, and maaaaaybe some shippin' stuff, since I need my practice. Feel free to suggest any OTPs you have. I reserve the right to decline requests, so help me God. But I probably won't, unless of course the characters involved aren't even in the story to begin with, or if I already have a rough idea of what I feel I can manage (aka I already have something in mind for said character(s) and it involves the plot). So far the pairings I have (because I have asked around) are SuFin, USUK (tentative), and Spamano. Maybe some GerIta. So far only the SuFin and the Spamano are plot-connected, so I ain't shipping any of them with anyone else. Other than that, have at me.**_

 _ **March 10, 2016**_

 _3rd Person POV:_

Luke absently flicked through the tablet that had been placed beneath the table for the trainees' benefit, scanning over various news stories and scandals. Antonio had fallen asleep several hours ago, and Feliciano was staring out the window with a slightly depressed look on his face. As Luke glanced out the window, wondering what had caused Feliciano's gloomy demeanor, he saw with some relief that the eternally square, mathematically precise walls of the city had faded into rolling, rock-studded hills and twisted, brown-burned grass. "Is something wrong?" he asked neutrally, and Feliciano's pout deepened.

"I-a cannot believe we're gonna be living in a place like-a this for _years_." he whined, and Luke blinked once, nonplussed. He didn't see anything wrong with the scenery outside. Then he shrugged and looked back down at the tablet, continuing to read. Apparently the son of one of the local governors had been caught gambling and drinking with a bunch of Aureus that worked in his father's home, and been sent to military training for punishment.

 _Like_ _ **that**_ _would ever happen._ Luke thought skeptically to himself, flicking a finger across the tablet to turn a page. Feliciano sighed at the lack of attention, then suddenly slammed his hands down on the table. Both Antonio and the previously silent Karl jerked awake as Luke's head whipped up from his tablet in shock, and Feliciano smiled innocently. "Vee~! C'mon, let's all go-a meet the other people we're going to be training with!" he said happily, and Antonio yawned and stretched, getting to his feet. "Well, why not?" he asked himself, sticking his hands in his pockets and wandering out the door as Feliciano bounced along behind him. Luke glanced to his side, watching Karl as the other met his gaze levelly, the door silently sliding shut.

"Karl Heohil, Scout." the other finally said in a slightly raspy, quiet voice, holding out his hand. Luke stared at it for a moment, then grudgingly took his hand. "Luke. Intelligence." he replied tersely, letting go quickly and turning back to his tablet. He subconsciously fingered his slightly shaggy bangs, then realized what he was doing and pulled his flat cap over them, forcibly lowering his hand and placing it on the seat beside him.

Karl blinked at the other man, knuckling the sleep from the corner of one eye as he yawned slightly. The prickly blonde who had taken the seat beside him seemed to be an exceptionally unsociable person, not to mention a bit odd, but that was fine. Lots of people were, and right now, someone un-chatty served Karl's purposes perfectly. Feliciano had been exceptionally –well, not irritating, but… _loud_. And Karl fully intended to get as many hours of sleep as possible in preparation for the grueling training that awaited them at the military base.

He leaned back up against the window, promptly falling back asleep.

* * *

Hsst.

Hsst.

Ivan's hands tightened slightly on the fabric over his knees, staring at the wall opposite him with deliberately blank violet eyes.

Hsst.

Hsst.

 _So the whispers will follow me here, too._ He thought dully as he slipped a bottle full of clear fluid from underneath his tan coat and took a sip, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes burning into the back of his head.

"…scary…murderous-lookin' guy…"

"…traitor…"

"…kind…doesn't belong here…"

 _Ignore them…ignore them…_

"May I sit down?"

Ivan jolted slightly at the voice right beside his ear, then slowly slipped the bottle back into his coat before looking up, seeing another young man, whose brownish-black hair was tied back in a rather effeminate ponytail, standing before him. His hazel eyes bored into Ivan, and he nodded to the gapingly empty space that yawned opposite the latter. "May I sit down?" he repeated impatiently, and Ivan blinked slowly.

"If you wish. You will not want to later." he replied calmly, and the other sat, slinging a satchel –he'd obviously forgotten that they were supposed to store their luggage in the above compartments– onto the seat beside him. Ivan took the time to study his odd companion as he fussed around for a few seconds, obviously situating himself. The young man had a wiry build –obviously not a Soldier or BM– and his skin was darker than Ivan was used to; he was probably a resident of the south. His thin hair was tied back and his face was angular and thin, as if he did not eat very much or very often.

"Stop watching me." the other young man suddenly snapped, after he had finally settled down and Ivan kept staring at him. His cold eyes bored haughtily into Ivan's, and his chin tilted arrogantly as he added "I am not a display to be ogled."

"You certainly dress like one." Ivan commented innocently, making a slight gesture towards the other's vibrant, crimson-colored and yellow-embroidered clothing. "What is your name?" he asked after a long silence, smiling with closed eyes, as the person opposite merely glared at him coldly.

"I am Wang Yao, or as you northerners would say, Yao Wang." he finally said stiffly, folding his gigantic, trailing sleeves. "And, besides your appalling manners, what might you do or say that would make me change my mind about sitting here?"

Clearly, Mister Wang Yao was not one who was used to having his decisions questioned or refuted, and Ivan's smile slipped. He silently held up his right hand, the back facing towards Yao, and the southerner's eyes widened slightly as he saw the half-moon –the mark of an Aureus– branded just beneath the web of skin connecting Ivan's thumb to his pointer finger. Since the half-moon was not located on Ivan's forehead, this meant that he was either a half-breed or a quarter-breed; one of his parents and/or grandparents had been an Aureus. People him were not common or welcome in most civilized establishments; they were mostly restricted and kept themselves to the outer fringes of the Empire.

Still, a soldier was a soldier and a trainee was a trainee.

"I see." Yao commented blandly, watching as Ivan slowly lowered his hand. "And what Rank are you?" he asked after a few seconds, watching Ivan's face become emotionless –all except that falsely bright smile.

"Soldier."

That certainly fit his build; Ivan was the tallest man Yao had ever seen, and neither of them were even full adults yet.

Yao nodded solemnly. "I am going to be a Scout." he announced, and the two fell into a slightly awkward silence.

"Do you have any siblings?" Ivan asked after a few seconds, still with that plastic, un-genuine smile, and Yao tore his eyes away from the window.

"One. He is Honda Kiku, my adoptive brother."

Long pause. Yao twiddled his thumbs underneath the table.

"Hmm. Is he here?"

" _Shì_. He will be a Nurse."

Another long, awkward, strained silence. Ivan's gaze had drifted to the window and he was watching the scenery rocket by, his mind obviously miles away.

"And you?" Yao finally asked.

"Two sisters, one older and one younger."

"Hmm."

Quiet fell over the duo again, both of them temporarily out of "safe" questions. After about ten minutes Yao glanced at the tag glinting on Ivan's chest. "What is your unit?" he asked hurriedly, unable to stand the silence any longer, and Ivan flicked the tag into his broad palm.

"Division 23564." he read aloud, and Yao nearly melted through the floor in relief. He was in a different unit from this smiling, strange colossus.

Ivan seemed to sense his relief, and smiled broadly. "But we are all in the same base anyways, da?"

Yao gave Ivan a plastic smile and nodded. He did, indeed, regret his decision to sit down here. He just wouldn't say anything about it.

* * *

"Vee~!" Feliciano chirped happily, skipping down the hallway with Antonio trailing obliviously along behind him. He opened the first door he came to, and the occupants looked up from a card game they had been playing.

Well, two of them were playing, the other was asleep.

 _Lots of people seem to sleep on this transport._ Antonio mused thoughtfully to himself as Feliciano bounced into the room with a wide smile. "Ve, hello! I'm-a Feliciano, and this is my friend Antonio!" he said proudly, and Antonio remembered to smile and wave with equal cheerfulness.

" _Hola_! I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Soldier from Division 37564!" he added eagerly, and the one who seemed to have the winning hand carefully blanked out his cards before laying the small disk on the table. His hair was long and blonde, and he threw a wink at Antonio and Feliciano with sparkling blue eyes.

"Bonjour! I am known as Francis; I strike when the mood strikes me!" he said with wicked good humor, then dramatically flashed the tag around his neck. "Battlefield Medic for the lovely Division 23564."

Antonio pouted slightly; he'd only heard a few sentences, but so far he'd found this "Francis" rather amusing, and he was sad to realize they were going to different units. Oh well. They were all going to the same base anyways. "Vee~! I'm-a going to be a Nurse in the same unit as you!" Feliciano realized cheerfully, and Francis raised one immaculately groomed blonde eyebrow.

"Is that so?" he asked neutrally, but then his naturally bright smile returned. "Ah, but where are my manners? This shy little raven-" Here he indicated the person opposite him, who seemed bound and determined to sink into his roomy black clothing and/or the seat, his card-disk left unattended on the table. "-is Kiku Honda, Nurse for Division 37564, and the sleepyhead over here-" He swept his hand towards the snoring person curled up against the window. "-is Heracles Karpusi, the Battlefield Medic for the same unit."

"Ve, so you're my counterpart, how wonderful!" Feliciano squealed, and before Antonio could warn him that someone who was so obviously shy probably wouldn't take physical contact well, the bubbly brunette launched forward and enfolded Kiku in a gigantic hug. There was perhaps the briefest of seconds before the aforementioned Kiku squawked and shoved Feliciano away from him, finally tumbling out of his cocoon of dark folds to reveal fine black hair and large brown eyes. Antonio instantly recognized that he was one of the southerners from the interior, rather than the coast (like him and Feli).

"You invade my personal space!" Kiku snapped, his face beet-red, so flustered that he could not even speak proper Latin. "I d-demand you take responsibility!"

"Vee…?" Feliciano questioned innocently from his spot on the floor, and Francis laughed, his cheek resting on one hand.

" _Mon ami_ , perhaps it would be wise to ask permission before you hugged someone, _oui_?" he advised, and Feliciano's face crumpled.

"Ve, did I offend you?! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he wailed, tears gushing dramatically down his face. "I'll-a make you pasta, but please don't be angry!"

Kiku's expression softened just barely. "As long as you do not do it again, I forgive you." he said primly, picking up his disk and waving a hand over it as the images of his cards flickered back to life. Francis copied him, and Antonio sat down by Kiku, picking up one of the extra disks from under the table.

"So you mind if we join?" he asked politely, and Francis beamed and made another extravagant gesture.

"Not at all, _mon ami!_ " he said happily, and Feliciano "vee"ed in excitement and sat down beside the blonde, picking up a card disk of his own. A few minutes into the game, Antonio remembered with some ruefulness that he really was no good at cards at all, and observed gloomily as Kiku seemingly sensed his weakness and did not hesitate to beat the pants off of him, banishing him to sit in the other booth and sulk. Due to the cycling nature of the game, Francis was soon caught in the crossfire between Feliciano and Kiku too, and was likewise out.

He sat opposite Antonio, flinging an arm over his seat with what Antonio was beginning to realize was his habitual unconscious, flamboyant grace. "So, do you and Feliciano know each other, then?" the silky-haired blonde asked cheerfully, and Antonio laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

"No, we only met on the train. He is so happy though, it's almost impossible not to befriend him." he explained sheepishly, and Francis chuckled, giving him a wink.

" _Oui_ , he is like a bright sun, burning up the room with his love and cheer." he purred fluidly as he tilted his head back against the seat to rest, and Antonio applauded softly.

"Very nice. Are you a poet, _señor_?" he asked admiringly, and Francis laughed, bringing his head back up again.

" _Moi? Mais non_ , I am someone who simply cannot help but describe beauty when he sees it." he teased, his blue eyes sparkling. "And what about you, _Monsieur_ Antonio? What brings you to this desolate wasteland to learn the skill of war?"

Antonio smiled brightly. "My father told me too, and besides, it's the law." he said cheerfully, and tilted his head to the side slightly, still smiling. "So _señor_ , where are you from? I'm from Moor, down by the southern coast-"

" _Oui_ , my family has vacationed in that region!" Francis interrupted excitedly, his eyes sparkling. "It was _magnifique_! The food, the wine, the picturesque atmosphere!"

Antonio's own eyes lit up, and they both began to chatter about the Moor region, places they had both seen, local foods they had both tried, and, in Francis's case, how absolutely stunning all the scenery had been –as a local, Antonio was immune to the charm of the countryside. That got them onto the subject of childhood, and Antonio frequently had Francis in stitches as he described all the tricks he had played on his parents and neighbors, with Francis trading Antonio's experiences with stories of his own, making the darkly-tanned brunette howl with laughter. By the time the transport finally pulled into the base, Antonio and Francis were fast friends that neither sleet nor hail nor fire nor ice could separate, differing unit assignments aside.

* * *

Murderous thoughts, sadly, were not always far from Lovino's mind. The fact that most everyone in his family preferred his twin brother to him, even though Feliciano wouldn't know "intelligent" if it hit him in the face, was usually the main cause for such thoughts. The fact that like everyone else in existence was a major _stronzo_ was also usually a high contributing factor. But he was currently thinking thoughts that involved high-octane power-rods and a host of shallow graves because he had been crammed into a very small, narrow space with two other guys, one blonde and one brunette. The blonde –Marcus, er, Mayhew, um, Matthew! That was it!– was mostly quiet, playing a holographic game. Lovino did not currently have a problem with him as such, although if it became necessary he could probably whip something up.

Especially if doe-eyes didn't stop muttering those unconscious little "eh"s of victory he did every time he shot a monster.

But the source of Lovino's silent longing for hermetically sealed bags and blunt force trauma was not him, oh no, not Doe-Eyes. The current occupant of Lovino's mental, deadly electric chair was not the effeminate-sounding, game-playing blonde. The man who currently presided over that unholy throne was seated opposite of them both, bouncing in his chair and eagerly watching Matthew's game.

And he

Would.

Not.

Shut.

Up.

This scum of satan was wearing, for unknown reasons –and Lovino darkly suspected that none existed– a white half-mask, shouting advice to Matthew for all he was worth as his identifier tag bounced merrily on his green-parka-covered chest. Lovino silently cursed this man and all his ancestors to die horrible deaths, far from home, without ever tasting pasta. He rained mental death upon any possible descendants. He contemplated the idea of making it impossible for this bastard to have descendants in the first place. He thought uncharitable thoughts of stabbing and poison, as well as an involuntarily long walk off a very short pier.

Yes, Lovino was not only at the end of his mental tether by the time the transport pulled into the compound, he was just about ready to leap across the table and use said tether to strangle this–this _Sadiq Adnan_ , otherwise known as Dumbass-Spawn-Of-Satan-Who-Won't-Shut-The-Fuck-Up, into brief unconsciousness and a very quick death. The bell above them tolled, and Lovino was _sprinting_ out of that room as Matthew put away his game and Dumbass-Spawn-Of-Satan-Who-Won't-Shut-The-Fuck-Up congratulated him on a really good game.

Lovino skidded to a halt outside the transport, looking wildly around for Feliciano. He would _not_ risk waiting and having Dumbass-Spawn-Of-Satan-Who-Won't-Shut-The-Fuck-Up find him and possibly, horror upon ultimate horror, attempt _conversation_ with him. The grey lights fixed into the smooth ceiling flickered as Aureus carefully pulled various luggage items off of the transport and set them on carts, ready to be rolled across the compound into whatever room the cadets might choose, and other people from the train mixed and mingled, chatting amicably. He finally spotted Feliciano chatting happily with a dark-haired central-southern-looking young man and a sleepy-eyed brunette with mussed hair and baggy clothes, and cut through the crowd like the pro he was.

"Feliciano! C'mon, let's go find our luggage!" he snapped as soon as he was within hearing range, and Feliciano turned, then his face broke out in a huge, sparkling smile.

"Lovi!" he squealed, quite as if he and Lovino hadn't gone to the same goddamned station to get in the transport, and tackled his elder brother in a hug. Lovino felt his faith in his brother's IQ start slowly slipping away, and wrenched himself away from the warm, friendly embrace.

"Yeah yeah, its-a me." he growled, dusting off his slightly grungy, white button-up shirt. Feliciano's countenance brightened further, if it was possible, and he happily indicated the two men standing on either side of him.

"These are my-a new friends, Kiku and, um-"

"Heracles." the apathetic-looking man mumbled, bags underneath his sleepy green eyes. He looked like he was about to drop to the pavement and snooze at any given moment. Lovino grabbed his unruly younger brother by the sleeve and dragged him away from the potential floor-hazard, giving a cordial nod to the central-southern man, who placed his hands together and politely bowed back. Contrary to most popular opinion, Lovino was not overly rude to people unless they deserved it.

However, since 95% of any given population were bastards and totally had it coming, this often gave people the mistaken impression that he, Lovino, was a rude person.

The two brunettes finally stopped in front of the luggage cart, and Lovino began scanning over the carts, looking for the two battered portal-cases he had packed. Feliciano, it was to be noted, had never and would never be trusted with any kind of organizational work, especially when said work involved long-term memory. Lovino wasn't much better, by his own admittance, but at least he usually remembered to pack all the right articles of clothing without the damn portal-case suddenly failing, and/or pasta flooding out.

He _still_ didn't know how Feliciano had managed to get that past CT security.

But all that aside, Lovino finally found his and Feliciano's identical bags, pulling them off the cart and turning to re-locate his brother, who had run off again. He smacked face-first into somebody's tomato-smelling, muscular chest, and took a step backwards before looking up.

Oh _no_.

Bright green eyes glinted like emeralds from within a darkly tanned face, and the person who had just booted Sadiq Adnan from the throne of Lovino's mental electric chair smiled winningly down at Lovino. One arm was around Feliciano's shoulder, like the two were old friends. " _Hola!_ You must be Feli's big brother, he's told me so much about you!" he said happily, and Lovino donned his "Fuck-Off-Bastard" scowl, famous amongst his family and friends.

" _Si_." he said icily, grabbing Feliciano by the sleeve and pulling him away from the other man. He turned and without another word stalked off, Feliciano trailing somewhat obliviously in his grip.

"Ve, Romano, that wasn't very nice at all. Antonio is-a really nice." he said sadly, and Lovino's fierce scowl deepened.

"I've-a seen people like him before, and they're only-a interested in our inheritance. You-a stay away from him." Lovino barked, snatching up his portal case and thrusting Feliciano's into his open hands.

Feliciano's normally sunny expression clouded somewhat as he followed after his older twin, his amber eyes confused. "Ve…he seemed nice to me…and he never asked about Grandpa." he said uncertainly, and Lovino snorted incredulously.

"With other people, it _always_ leads back to Grandpa." he sneered firmly, continuing to usher his younger brother into the relative safety of the compound's interior hallways. Since all males had to attend an academy at one point or another before the age of 24, Lovino had figured that it would be easier to force his somewhat air-headed brother to attend with him, instead of waiting –as the somewhat wussy Feliciano undoubtedly would have. Just the thought of his little brother Feli all alone in the outside civilian communities, completely vulnerable to any scammer or schemer who decided to come his way while _he_ trained in military school, made Lovino cringe all over. At least here, such people would either be nonexistent or too busy training to bother the two of them, and Lovino could stop playing "How Much Does It Take To Get The Inheritance Hunters Away Without The Cops Getting Called".

At the remembrance, Lovino looked over his shoulder to see Antonio chatting obliviously with some girly-man-looking northerner with long, slightly wavy blonde hair, his back to the twins. The short-tempered brunette's teeth grit slightly as he stared at the new threat, his dark amber eyes locked on Antonio's back. Maybe if Lovino glared hard enough, he would shrivel up and spontaneously combust. As if sensing his efforts, Antonio suddenly turned around and beamed, giving him a cheery wave. Lovino's glare intensified, his fist tightening around the strap of his portal case, before he abruptly turned around, pushing Feliciano before him.

 _I dub thee Fucking-Inheritance-Thief-Number-Four-Thousand-Six-Hundred-and-Three, and thou shalt pay for trying to fuck with my little brother's future livelihood,_ _ **Antonio**_ _._ He thought viciously, shouldering his portal bag.

 _ **7.59 PM, USA Central Time**_


	3. Speed, Agression, and Surprise

_**In which we finally have who's what and what's who explained to us. Ya'll have fun guessing who is the guy(s) who snuck into the training program for reasons. I really have no established reviewers or questions here, so, you know, that's really all I have to say. The shipping offer still stands, although for the supposedly rabid shipping fandom Hetalia is I'm surprised at the lack of requests and/or demands. Huh. Oh well, stranger things have happened.**_

 _ **March 17, 2017**_

 _3_ _rd_ _Person POV:_

Antonio continued chatting happily with Francis about the virtues of the southern sun as they got off of the transport –Francis maintained it was good in small doses, while Antonio advocated for complete and constant exposure for the best benefits– and went to go find their luggage. Feliciano had bounced off with his "big brother" several minutes ago, smiling all the way. "It is a pity we're not in the same unit, _mon ami_." Francis said regretfully as he picked up a very shiny and top-of-the-line looking portal case, and Antonio pouted as he picked up his own, significantly less up to date.

"Well, we are allowed to choose our own rooms. You can share one with me, _amigo_." he said hopefully, and Francis nodded thoughtfully, a slight smile drifting across his face.

" _Oui_. There are supposed to be more than two people per room though, if I remember correctly." he added in afterthought, and they both blinked, then shrugged. "Well, the rulebook said to just pick a room and then report to the mess hall." Francis said dismissively, and Antonio nodded. They both slung the portal cases over their shoulders and started off into the interior of the compound, following the small stream of other young men. The transport bay only had two hallways going off of it; the largest one –with the compound's name, _Imperium_ , stenciled above it– was for the trainees or any people who wished to visit, and the smaller, nearly invisible one, was for any Aureus servants who ran the compound.

Due to their quick exit, Antonio and Francis were able to find the first room on the dorm hallway unoccupied, and quickly claimed it as their own via thumbprint recognition. The small pad outside the door glowed once, then twice, and the blank screen below the name of the room –Unum– lit up with Antonio and Francis's names. Antonio was the first inside, and tilted his head slightly as he observed what would be his home for the next several years.

There were small vents that ran the length of the floor, creating a soft and eternal humming sound that was a somewhat eerie counterpoint to the flickering static lights on the ceiling. There were four metallic-looking bunkbeds with large storage boxes at their feet, and two identical doors that, when opened, revealed identical, utilitarian bathrooms. Everything was very functional and muted, crammed into as little space as possible to give room to the four presumably boisterous men that would later occupy it.

Francis swung his stylish portal bag onto the bottom of the left-hand bunk, chuckling at Antonio's questioning look. "I am the Battlefield Medic, _mon ami_. If there is an emergency call in the middle of the night, I don't want to have to climb down that ladder in a hurry." he said in amusement, nodding towards the collection of thin metal poles propped up against the edge of the top bunk. Antonio shrugged happily and accepted this, climbing up to the top bunk and tossing his own portal case there to claim it as his own.

"I wonder who will be our roommates." he said curiously as he looked at the other bunkbed, and Francis shrugged elegantly.

"We shall find out eventually, _mon ami_." he said complacently, and Antonio slid down the ladder as his newfound friend got up from his seat. "Well, let us go discover what our new commander wants of us, _oui_?" Francis said with a sigh, and they both headed for the door, Francis rolling up his sleeves as they went. Being a Battlefield Medic was usually an extraordinarily messy job.

* * *

Sixteen young men stood in a more-or-less correct line, backs ramrod straight –in theory– as they waited for the commander who would be giving them the skills that would save their life on some far-distant battlefield. This was where discipline ended –Feliciano was talking softly with his brother, Alfred was chewing loudly on some kind of edible substance, and Gilbert was whistling something oddly catchy but definitely against the rules. This all stopped as Lieutenant Cinthinum strode briskly onto the announcement platform; as soon as the sound of his booted feet clicked against the walls, the cadets knew this was not a man to be messed with. Subconsciously, they straightened.

Cinthinum was hard, and angular, his black hair smoothed back against his skull and covered by a military cap that looked mathematical in its precision. He was tall and lean, his uniform perfectly pressed, his boots so clean that they gleamed in the faint light. Women accounted him handsome and he certainly was, but he was completely, body and soul, devoted to the Empire's military training. Cadets joked that he lived and breathed the Imperium Academy's rules, and that if the building was somehow destroyed or retired the Honorable Lieutenant would spontaneously crumble into dust.

Playful banter aside, this man was not one to be crossed. You could sense it by looking at him, by reading about him, by hearing him, even. He radiated strength, discipline and cold-hearted cunning.

" _So_ ," Cinthinum began. His midwinter blue eyes scanned the nervous line of young men. "So."

Nobody dared to move.

"You are the soldiers who will attend the Imperium Academy for the next few years, yes?"

There were a few muted mumbles of assent, by the braver cadets among them, and the Honorable Lieutenant's nostrils flared. "Very well then, enough." he snapped, making all sound instantly cut out. "Soldiers, step forward one pace."

A few of the young men gulped, some in unison, but the threat of the Lieutenant's displeasure was more than enough incentive to step forward as commanded. The line split apart, with six young men stepping to the front, and ten staying behind.

"Turn around and face your peers."

The Soldiers did so, blinking, staring, or blushing at their fellow cadets according to their nature. The Honorable Lieutenant began to pace the platform, hands behind his back. He did not look at the cadets. "The Soldier is the backbone of the battlefield. Without our mighty Soldiers, we would not have become an Empire." he told the empty reaches of the room, sounding as if this was a speech he had made a thousand times before, but was still vigorously proud of. The young men in the second line began to look cautiously confident.

"Soldiers are the leaders, the commanders, and the best we have to offer. I myself am a former Soldier." Lieutenant Cinthinum said briskly, continuing to pace. "There are three soldiers in each of your two divisions. Soldiers, split apart by unit."

The second line took a moment, then the six men stepped into two lines of three. The Honorable Lieutenant stopped pacing and stood behind them. "This is Division 37564. Eventually, one of these three will become your unit leader. " he said, indicating one of the two groups. The young men in the first line looked at the Soldiers warily, especially those would who be led by them. The three Soldiers under scrutiny all reacted in different ways –Ludwig straightened, his eyes becoming nearly as unreadable as Lieutenant Cinthinum's; Antonio beamed, waving happily, and Sadiq smiled wickedly from beneath his white mask.

The Honorable Lieutenant then indicated the other group. "And one of these Soldiers will lead Division 23564." he added impartially, and Gilbert grinned, his red eyes gleaming wickedly, as Alfred subconsciously rolled his shoulders a few times and Ivan smiled innocently. "Soldiers, form a line once more and about face."

The Soldiers merged back together and turned to face Lieutenant Cinthinum. He spoke over their heads and to their faces at the same time, a practiced orator. "Soldier is the most common but the most brutal class. You will bloody your knuckles and break your bones. Every day you will face death and every day you will triumph. The highest positions in government can only be held by a Soldier-rank individual, and only a Soldier can be in control of a battlefield unit. We are the shock troops and the first ones on any chosen battlefield, besides the Scouts."

He began to pace again.

"You must be the strongest both physically and mentally. You will give no quarter and ask for no mercy."

Arthur watched as Alfred's eyes shone brighter and brighter with every sentence, and gave an exasperated mental sigh.

"Your weapons will be your guns and your own living flesh. Hand-to-hand, our Soldiers are the best fighters in the Roman Empire. After today's orientation, you will be trained to fight, and be trained to kill. You will be trained in the use of melee weapons and guns. You will be trained to drive a skiff over hostile terrain. You will be trained to protect your comrades and subordinates at all costs."

The Honorable Lieutenant stopped pacing, and indicated a AR unit, which was standing patiently at the end of the podium. "Soldiers, your assignment begins now. Follow the android, where you will receive your uniforms and have your ID tags confirmed."

The as-of-yet unmoved cadets watched mutely as the Soldiers calmly and casually filed after the robot, which whirred smoothly along the polished marble floor and into a hallway that branched off from the main eating area. The Honorable Lieutenant stood with his hands loosely clasped behind him, and waited until the last trainee had vanished behind the doors before speaking again.

"Scouts, step forward one pace."

The much-diminished line thinned again as four of the young men somewhat nervously –but not quite as nervous as they had been before– stepped forward.

"Turn around and face your peers."

The four Scouts turned around to face the six remaining cadets, standing loosely with their hands at their sides. Already there was a telling difference; the Soldier cadets had all been strong and muscular, mostly tall, with an alpha-like demeanor. The Scouts were just as athletic-looking as the Soldiers, but they were smaller, skinnier, and more agile. The Honorable Lieutenant continued in the same vein he had described Soldiers.

"Scouts are our second-most important rank. They are our eyes and ears on the battlefield, the ones who search out –and on occasion destroy– enemy encampments. The information from Scouts are often the fulcrums upon which the battle turns. They protect the supply lines and guard bases. There are two Scouts assigned to each unit. Scouts, separate."

The foursome split apart, with Yao and Lovino on one side, and Matthew and Karl on another. Yao looked inscrutable, and Lovino seemed fidgety and awkward beside him. Matthew and Karl simply blinked at the others with good-natured curiosity.

"Scouts are trained to be silent and deadly. If we are ever given the option, they are the very first on the battlefield, although _not_ the first combatants. They will run supplies between different lines and keep those lines open, and they are the only rank to directly support Soldiers on the battlefield." Lieutenant Cinthinum said in sonorous tones, and the Scouts stood a little straighter as he directly addressed them.

"You will be trained on long-range weapons. You will be trained in stealth, speed, and aggression. For the chance that you are ever caught in close range, you will be trained in the use of stun rods. You will be trained to run over any and all kinds of terrain. You will be trained to climb any and all types of terrain. Dismissed. Follow the Soldiers to confirm your rank and receive your uniform." The Honorable Lieutenant said briskly, and the Scouts quickly left his line of sight, retreating through the doors that the Soldiers and robot had used previously.

Lieutenant Cinthinum looked with disfavor upon the last six cadets. Most of them had already realized that anyone not a Soldier was going to be given short shrift by this particular commanding officer, and were not too terribly perturbed. Feliciano looked slightly nervous, but that was in all likelihood because Lovino was no longer around to keep an eye on him.

"Intelligence, step forward." The Honorable Lieutenant finally snapped, and two of the remaining six stepped forward.

"Turn and face your peers."

They did so.

"Intelligence operatives are the ones to interpret what Scouts send in and advise Soldiers on what to do with said information. They are the spies and the covert operations of any and all divisions. Each unit is assigned one Intelligence rank operative; any more could be dangerous."

The two Intelligence operatives looked at each other, blinked, and looked away. Luke's face was still seemingly frozen into neutrality, while Arthur's habitual look of skepticism made him seem grumpy and cynical. Neither looked terribly intimidating, although they certainly looked suspicious.

"You are _never_ on the active battlefield. Your place is behind the front lines, giving advice to leaders and receiving reports from Scouts. Nevertheless, you will be trained in the use of knives and hand-to-hand combat, as well as poison. You will learn the different ethnic languages that make up our glorious empire, how to write in code, and how to decipher the code of other Intelligence agents spies."

Arthur yawned internally. He already knew this; he'd been training for the Intelligence rank almost since his tenth birthday. While the lack of prestige and power generally threw most would-be Intelligence candidates, Arthur was in this for one thing and one thing only; knowledge.

And he didn't care what he had to slog through to get it.

"Dismissed. Follow the Scout and Soldier cadets to the fitting room to confirm your rank and uniform."

The two Intelligence operatives slouched out of the room, and the Honorable Lieutenant viewed the last four with disdain. "Battlefield Medics, step forward one pace." he said crisply, and Francis and Heracles stepped forward calmly. The Honorable Lieutenant did not command them to turn around, perhaps because there were only two other people in the room besides themselves.

"The Battlefield Medic is an exceedingly gruesome if not particularly rewarding rank." he began, sounding –through the iron discipline– as if he was becoming bored of this particular subject. "They are the individuals in charge of keeping wounded unit members alive until they can be helped by a Nurse. Physical examinations are always given by Battlefield Medics, and all records are jointly kept between them and the unit Nurse. This will include personal history, combat records, and all other files for any applicable parties in your unit."

He did not pace this time, perhaps again because of the small amount of people. "You will be cleaning wounds and giving a preliminary diagnosis before handing your wounded comrades off to a Nurse. You will be trained to defend yourself and your charges in case of a base attack –which, I might add, is rare to nonexistent. Your place is on the battlefield and you will rarely if ever rise far in our noble government. Dismissed. Confirm you tags and uniforms with the others."

Francis and Heracles both looked at each other, and in another situation would have probably shrugged, but in front of the Honorable Lieutenant they didn't dare, and trudged silently towards the double doors at the far end of the mess hall. Now the only two young men left were Feliciano and Kiku, both of whom straightened uncomfortably under the Honorable Lieutenant's iron gaze. He blinked once, sharply, then began.

"You two will be the Nurse for your select divisions." he said briskly, standing on the podium with the two young men standing straight and tall –or as tall as they could– before him. "Your duty is to help unit members to recover and heal from any wounds they have sustained, and give them surgery when they cannot on their own. Your place is behind the front lines with Intelligence operatives and Scouts, and you will rarely if ever see combat. Your task is messy and often painful, but it is rewarding, since you keep our brave Soldiers capable of staying on the front lines. You are to work closely with the Battlefield Medic of your unit, as well as your Intelligence officer, and maintain friendly relations with the Scouts and Soldiers. In short, you are to be useful to everyone. You are in a unique position and, under certain circumstances, can become integral parts of the government."

His midwinter eyes raked the two teens standing before him. Feliciano shivered slightly and edged closer to Kiku –under these circumstances, Kiku couldn't precisely blame him. "The two of you have a long and bloody career ahead of you. I suggest you get rid of any squeamishness."

The Honorable Lieutenant turned, his boots clicking precisely against the marble. "Dismissed. Join the rest of your units for ID confirmation and your uniforms."

 _ **11.14 AM, USA Central Time**_


	4. Suit Up, Roll Out

_**Just to make things clear, the undercover person is not Kiku. I repeat, the person who snuck in is** not **Kiku. He is a no touchy-touchy person because in the show Japan is a complete and utter recluse. Thus, I wrote him as extremely shy, quiet, and freaking out when touched. He is not hiding anything, I repeat, Japan is not hiding anything. He's just being Japan. (I mean, c'mon people? "I would rather die than go outside"? Japan's totally an introvert.) So for the two of you who guessed that, I appreciate the effort, but…it isn't him. And** Abc **, I already have Romano involved with Spain (in the future) for reasons according to plot. (Sorry 'bout that.) I'm sure he will warm up to Germany eventually though. Oh, and** CheeseTail **, JUST TRY TO STOP ME! (Of course I'll continue.)**_

 _ **April 5, 2016**_

 _3rd Person POV:_

The AR unit whirred quietly as it traveled along the smooth floors, and Alfred shifted slightly, feeling a subconscious urge to take the lead. Unfortunately, that was what everyone but some happy-looking dude with curly brown hair and green eyes seemed to feel as well, so they were left trailing after the robot in a sort of clump. The only one who seemed to be making any headway was a freakishly tall guy with hair more white-blonde than anything Alfred had ever seen, excepting maybe the grinning dude with –wait, were those _red_ eyes?!

Freaky.

The AR clicked as it came to a halt inside a room filled with various darkened fabrics and uniforms, and slowly whirred to face them. The Soldiers all spread out once more, this time instinctively. The robot, which was literally nothing but a pole with some kind of sensory box on top (Alfred wasn't a major in AR mechanics, and the military units were often different than the civilian ones) whirred again, before a bright blue light began to glow at the top. " _Soldiers, please form a line. One by one, stand on the indicated podium, and we shall begin._ " a metallic female voice commanded, and Alfred blinked as a circle of blue light appeared on the floor; slightly above it, now that he looked.

The towering dude with the extraordinarily light blonde hair stepped forward before anyone else could move, standing in the circle of light with a pleasant half-smile on his face. The blue light from the tip of the robot's sensor fanned out, scanning him from ground to crown. It beeped once. " _Ivan Braginsky, age 20. Soldier. Receiving uniform; please remain still."_

Ivan, as he was apparently called, stood patiently as the light thickened, squinting his violet eyes slightly as it brightened suddenly and sharply, then faded. He was left wearing a pitch-black uniform with a high collar, silver buttons starting at his hip and climbing diagonally across his chest until they hit his shoulder, then making an abrupt right turn and climbing up his high collar. He was also wearing a shiny black belt with several empty holsters, which cinched around black, plain slacks. His boots were just as utilitarian and just as dark.

 _Man, wearing all those dark colors all the time is gonna be real depressing._ Alfred thought with a small pout, watching Ivan as he inspected his new attire, still with that pleasant smile. " _Your clothing and personal effects have been sent to the room you claimed prior to your orientation. Please step off the circle for the next candidate._ " the AR beeped, and Ivan stepped off the small podium. The next man to step forward was also freakishly tall, but he was deeply tanned, with dark brown hair and –oddly enough– a white mask covering half his face. He set his stance firmly and folded his arms across his chest, grinning slightly as the AR scanned him and beeped. " _Sadiq Adnan, age 20. Soldier. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

The light surged and dimmed again, and Sadiq was revealed to have cheerful amber eyes as his mask disappeared and he was clothed in the same uniform as Ivan, which he inspected curiously. " _Your clothing and personal effects have been sent to the room you claimed prior to your orientation. Please step off the circle for the next candidate_." the robot droned, and Sadiq hopped off the stand. Alfred wasn't going to be denied this time and stepped forward, coming to a halt on top of the glowing circle. He squinted slightly as the AR scanned him, the bright blue light flashing uncomfortably into his eyes. It beeped. " _Alfred Jones, age 19. Soldier. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Alfred silently said farewell to his nice, comfy shirt and slacks, then blinked as he was suddenly draped in unfamiliar fabric. The uniform was thick, probably to defend against bullets, and was actually a lot less itchy than he'd expected. The high collar was new though, and he tugged at it uncomfortably. Luckily the AR hadn't removed his glasses, and it whirred the same reminder it had given Ivan and Sadiq as he stepped off the podium. The next person up was the dude with the creepy red eyes, who swaggered up to the stand and leaped up with an air of such arrogance Alfred was half-surprised he didn't choke on it. He heard a weary sigh beside him, and glanced to see another blue-eyed blonde, with his hair already slicked back like a professional Soldier, eyeing the white-haired dude in exasperation.

" _Gilbert Beilschmidt, age 21. Soldier. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Alfred had to stifle a snigger as Gilbert immediately crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out, even going so far as to wiggle his ears. However, his clothes were still switched out for the uniform, and Gilbert stopped crossing his eyes and put his tongue back in with a muttered curse. He then lazily eyed his new uniform, putting his hands on his hips and twisting to look at his back. " _Mein Gott_ , I think zis look has taken twenty pounds off." he said in an obviously fake falsetto, and Alfred heard a ripple of laughter –his not excepted– as the man beside him facepalmed. "Gilbert, get off of the podium." he muttered through his fingers, in the same accent, and the albino grinned deviously, jumping down with a laugh that sounded like a hissing snake. The AR, blankly repeating the same instructions, did nothing.

The dude who either knew or was probably related to Gilbert stepped up, standing like he was in formation as the light scanned him up and down. " _Ludwig Beilschmidt, age 20. Soldier. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ " Alfred felt a little lightbulb pop up above his head; so Ludwig was apparently related to Gilbert, instead of just like a childhood friend or something. _Cool_. The light beamed and faded once more, and Ludwig was left standing in the Soldier uniform, and looking like he was born to wear it. The upright man waited for the AR's instructions before stepping briskly off the platform, leaving the smiley-looking tan dude with curly brown hair for last. He jumped up onto the podium with a sunny smile, waiting for the AR to scan him. It beeped. " _Antonio Carriedo, age 20. Soldier. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

One last flash of light, and the Soldiers were left standing around, comparing their uniforms and tool belts. Despite the fact all of them were more or less different sizes, the identical-looking uniforms still fit perfectly. The belts with loops and holsters for their weapons were also sized to fit their owner; however there was an empty space on the left hip of every soldier for some reason. The AR beeped loudly, getting their attention as all of the Soldiers looked up. " _The Scouts will be entering shortly. Please stand to one side to let them pass._ "

Everyone looked towards the entrance, and there was a pause of several seconds before the doors slid open, and four of the other young trainees walked through. Alfred straightened up instantly as he spotted the only blonde of the group. "Mattie!" he said excitedly (and it was totally not a squeal), launching himself out of the group and wrapping his arms around his younger cousin, who staggered backwards.

"Al?!" Matthew gasped in surprise, then grinned and hugged him back. "Oh my god, I can't believe it! You're in the same base as me?!"

"Unit 23564. You?"

"Same!"

The cousins' delighted reunion was cut short by the AR unit beeping demandingly. " _Scouts, please form a line. One by one, stand on the indicated podium, and we shall begin._ " Alfred let go of his cousin and stepped back as Matthew mouthed " _We'll talk later_ " and formed a line with the other three Scouts. An effeminate-looking dude with a slightly girly ponytail stepped forward first, standing on the podium with folded arms and what seemed to be a permanent look of bored superiority. The AR scanned him and then beeped. " _Yao Wang, age 22. Scout. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Alfred cocked his head, wondering just what the Scout uniform would be. He soon discovered that it was a very similar model to the Soldier uniform, but with a much lower collar and two parallel lines of dulled –not shiny– buttons marching from the collarbones down to the navel, where the uniform abruptly cut off. Yao's stomach would probably have been exposed without some kind of scarf that was wrapped tightly around his midriff, which also covered the beginnings of a pair of loose, dark slacks. The fabric had some kind of shimmery look to it, which blurred at the edges and made Yao seem like he was about to melt into the darkness of the room at any second. Alfred's eyes went wide as he grinned in excitement, and he barely stopped himself from bouncing on his heels. Mattie was going to look like a ninja!

Yao inspected his uniform with a slight scowl of distaste; clearly he was more used to the floppy, longer sleeves of his previous clothing. " _Your clothing and personal effects have been sent to the room you claimed prior to your orientation. Please step off the circle for the next candidate._ " The AR chimed, and Yao stepped off. Mattie was the next up, and he stood on the podium quietly as the blue light scanned him from head to toe. " _Matthew Williams, age 18. Scout. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Matthew blinked as the clothes he was wearing transformed into a dark uniform identical to Yao's, quickly stepping off of the podium and fading into the crowd. He twisted and turned slightly as he inspected himself in the shadow of the taller Soldiers. The fabric of his shirt, slacks, and odd little stomach-wrap was made of something that felt extremely light but also extremely tough, and there was some kind of wide bracelet on his arm. He pulled his sleeve up slightly and cocked his head, seeing a thick metal band around his wrist with an odd leather loop sticking out to the side. Out of curiosity, he pulled it, and gulped as he stretched out a dull, thin metal strand that stopped at roughly arm length.

A strangling wire.

Matthew quickly let go and allowed the wire to retract, watching the platform with a quiet sigh as the next person stepped up. He smiled slightly as he saw it was Lovino, the sour-looking young man who had shared a compartment with him and Sadiq. The device scanned him and beeped. " _Lovino Vargas, age 19. Scout. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Lovino was stepping off the platform almost before his uniform had finished forming, and stood apart from the others, his scowl still firmly etched onto his face. The last Scout stepped up, and Matthew's content smile turned to one of slight concern as he saw the flicker of nervousness in the brunette's blue-violet eyes. Nevertheless, the other young man stood confidently on the podium as the blue light scanned him up and down. Matthew's blonde eyebrows furrowed slightly, unnoticed by everyone else, as there was the barest pause from the AR, before it beeped. " _Karl Heohil, age 19. Scout. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Karl nearly tripped as he hurriedly stepped off of the podium, and, using the camouflage provided by the Scout uniform, hurriedly faded into the crowd with a red face. Matthew's light violet eyes followed him for a few moments, before he shrugged. Having your clothes stripped away from you and then replaced with something foreign would make a lot of people self-conscious, himself included, he reasoned calmly. The AR beeped loudly, getting the cadets' attention. " _The Intelligence operatives will be entering shortly. Please stand to one side to let them pass._ "

Barely had it finished speaking before the doors slid open again, and Matthew blinked in shock as he saw Arthur walk through them, along with someone else Matthew didn't know. He then beamed and waved, although Alfred did not. _Maybe he already knew?_ This wasn't the first time Alfred had forgotten to tell Matthew something significant due to more "important" things on his mind. Still though, Matthew was in an extraordinarily good mood. Not only did he get to share the same base –and unit!– with his cousin, but their childhood friend and neighbor Arthur was also here!

" _Intelligence operatives, please form a line. One by one, stand on the indicated podium, and we shall begin._ "

Neither Arthur nor the other young man formed a line as directed, perhaps because there were only two of them, and Arthur was already stepping forward. He stood on the podium with his hands on his hips, tapping a foot impatiently as the AR belatedly began to scan him. " _Arthur Kirkland, age 20. Intelligence. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

The light surged and then faded, and Arthur inspected his pitch-black uniform curiously. His messy blonde hair was crowned by a flat military cap, and the actual uniform was just as fancy and –from both Alfred and Matthew's point of view– useless. There was a pocket on each side of Arthur's chest, with a line of bright silver buttons marching down between them, from his Adam's apple all the way down to his waist, and his slacks had silver piping on them. From this, the Intelligence operatives were obviously not supposed to do anything but stand there and look fancy, or at least not in this rendition of the uniform.

" _Your clothing and personal effects have been sent to the room you claimed prior to your orientation. Please step off the circle for the next candidate._ "

Arthur stepped smartly off the platform, joining Matthew and Alfred. The two cousins overshadowed him slightly, and he subconsciously straightened his hat as he turned to face the podium with the rest of the cadets. "Nice job, Iggy!" Alfred snickered, and Arthur glared poisonously at the other blonde as Alfred clapped him on the back, nearly making him stagger forward. Matthew sighed a long-suffering sigh from beside them as the other Intelligence agent stepped up.

There was another incremental pause, before the AR beeped. " _Luke Bondevik, age 20. Intelligence. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Luke looked fractionally irritated as the blue light scanned over him and the small t-shaped pin that's held some of his hair to one side disappeared, as well as the blue hat he was wearing, replaced by the fancy black hat Arthur had already donned. Alfred snickered again and nudged his friend, who responded with an elbow to his gut as Alfred winced (just to make him feel better, it totally didn't hurt) and edged away slightly. Luke was off the podium before the AR could urge him to do so, and resumed lurking at the edge of the small but growing crowd like most of the Scouts (and that tall dude Ivan).

" _The Battlefield Medics will be entering shortly. Please stand to one side to let them pass._ "

The various young cadets had all already more or less formed an open space that led from the doors to the podium, talking quietly with their neighbors or silently standing around, so there was not much movement as the two BMs sauntered in. Antonio beamed and waved at Francis, who winked playfully back as he strutted through the door. The other BM, Heracles, looked like he was about to fall over, dark circles under his eyes betraying the cause of his swaying. Francis cast his counterpart a worried look before stepping forward, as if he was afraid Heracles would collapse if no one was there keep an eye him. Ludwig, perhaps because he did not want anyone to interrupt anything, went over to Heracles, obviously intending to prevent any –literal– downfalls.

Francis stood on the podium and tossed his hair expectantly, causing Arthur to give a derisive sniff. _Pretty boy._ He though disdainfully as the light scanned the other blonde up and down, and the AR unit beeped. " _Francis Bonnerfoy, age 21. Battlefield Medic. Receiving uniform, please remain still._ "

Arthur raised his substantial eyebrows as Francis's clothes blurred and changed, and the slightly stubbled man inspected his dull green uniform –not black– with a look of distaste. It had no buttons or clasps, but an abundance of pockets, and the belt around Francis's waist was full of pouches and kits. " _Mon dieu_ , how drab." he complained under his breath, before stepping off the platform as Heracles shuffled forward. The exhausted-looking brunette slouched onto the platform, blinking sleeping as the light scanned him from head to toe. " _Heracles Karpusi, age 21. Battlefield Medic. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Heracles yawned slightly as his white shirt and slacks were charged to the dull olive green uniform, stepping off the platform and promptly curling up on a pile of shirts nearby, snoring softly. Arthur felt momentary concern for Ludwig as the latter's grinding teeth was heard even over the soft ripple of laughter that followed at the BM's exhaustion, watching the elder Beilschmidt sibling snort and nudge his brother into a better mood –or at least attempt to. When that failed, he began systematically poking his brother, cackling a wild, hissing laugh that was mildly disturbing in its glee.

Arthur's observations were interrupted by the beeping of the machine and he turned, realizing with a small shock that he had missed the announcement and arrival of the Nurses. One of them, with an oddly wild hair curl and light copper hair, was standing on the platform with a sunny smile, holding still as the blue light finished scanning him. " _Feliciano Vargas, age 19. Nurse. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

Feliciano "vee"ed happily as his clothing was changed, inspecting his new uniform curiously. He was wearing a loose, olive green shirt and slacks, which was topped by a long white coat, the hem of which stopped at knee height. Feliciano squealed in delight and twirled, sending the white fabric flapping out at his sides as Lovino smacked a hand over his face. " _Fratello_ , get-a off of there for the next-a person!" he hissed through gritted teeth, and Feliciano pouted, hopping off the platform and wandering over to his brother.

Kiku quietly approached the podium as Feliciano excitedly chattered to his brother, diving his hands in all of his pockets to find out what was inside them. (Which was nothing, of course.) Kiku stood equally quietly and waited for the light to scan him up and down, before the AR beeped. " _Kiku Honda, age 20. Nurse. Receiving uniform; please remain still._ "

The blue light glowed and faded, but before the newly uniformed Kiku could step off the platform the AR buzzed and began to wheel forward. " _Please follow the unit to return to the mess hall. Dinner will be served for one hour, followed by the first of your training courses._ " the cool, impersonal voice hummed, and the doors slid open for the robot as the rest of the cadets shrugged and followed.

 _ **12.39 PM, USA Central Time**_


	5. Army Rations

_**Hey, 's me again. If you guys are enjoying this story, may I suggest (*cough* shamelessly endorse *cough*) my other Hetalia story, The Trekker. It's about 2ps and things and lots of people like it. Also, there was a con last weekend and I had a lot of tests and homework this week and that week, so that's mostly why this update took so long. Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, the food here will be modern, normal food. I'm too lazy come up with anything else, so if anyone was confused, they're literally just eating cafeteria food. (It's an AU, I can get away with that.) Heads up for Russia, by the way. He's going to be majorly passive-aggressive and creepy. I love him to bits, but it's his job here to be a meanie-pants. (He gets better later though, I promise.) Passive-aggressiveness is actually surprisingly hard to write though; I now have a lot more respect for people who write Russia like that on a daily basis. It's hard. Also, the Normans and the Saxons were two precursors to the English and the French, so there's that. (Think Normandy and Anglo-Saxon, if that helps.)**_

 _ **May 11 2016**_

 _3rd Person POV:_

"Mattie! I didn't know you applied!" Alfred said excitedly, bouncing slightly on his seat as his glasses gleamed in the light of the overhead. He and Matthew were sitting approximately across from each other at one of the rounded tables, with Arthur calmly eating between them. They'd already gotten their eating trays, and the gossip that had been silenced during their uniforming and inspection by Lieutenant Cinthinum now flowed freely.

"I decided I might as well, eh." Matthew said with a casual shrug, stirring his food with the metal forks they were given. "I got bored with staying at home."

"But you're, like, gonna be one of the youngest, smallest people here!" Alfred blurted excitedly, then chuckled nervously at his cousin's glare. Although Matthew was only a cousin on his mom's side, they had spent most of their childhood together as neighbors, and had grown up closer than a lot of siblings Alfred could name. Matthew might look innocent and meek, and he usually was pretty nice, but being called small, weak, and/or shy was one of the extraordinarily few, if not the only, things that could tick him off, and a ticked-off Matthew was a scary thing to behold.

"Shoving your foot in your mouth as always, Alfred." Arthur commented absently, holding a tablet in one hand as he slowly read over the book or article within. The mess hall was abuzz with similar chatter, with the other various young cadets taking their food from a line of windows before seating themselves at one of the three round, six-person tables that surrounded the flat stage where Cinthinum had addressed them earlier. Alfred, Matthew, and Arthur had been one of the first to get to the mess hall, thus, they were already seated when the main crowd of people had arrived, and could chat with impunity.

"Hey! That's not fair!" Alfred pouted defensively, scowling at the older blonde. "I'm plenty smart! I just…I goof up sometimes, that's all!"

Arthur very visibly rolled his acid green eyes. "If you define "sometimes" as "always,", then perhaps I could agree. You're all seat and no science." he retorted in a superior tone as he put the tablet down, and Alfred scowled indignantly.

"Well, you're all science and no seat!"

Matthew sighed, forgotten, as the two of them began to bicker again. He honestly missed the good old days, when all three of them had not yet gone through the horror that was puberty and could actually get along for extended periods of time. Now all Arthur and Alfred did was grump at each other, although to be fair, they continued hang out together anyways. Maybe their constant arguing was just a by-product of their friendship. Maybe they had that hate-love thing that was talked about in novels.

Maybe they enjoyed being exasperating.

"May I sit down?"

Matthew blinked and looked up, seeing another young man with curious blue eyes and somewhat shaggy brown hair standing next to him. It was Karl, one of the other Scouts. "Yeah, sure." he said in surprise, patting the bench beside him. Karl smiled briefly and took the seat offered, setting his tray down beside Matthew's and quietly starting to eat. He looked skinny, even for a Scout; Matthew figured that he probably needed the energy. "I'm Matthew Williams, eh. This is my cousin Alfred, and our friend Arthur." he said after a few moments, not wanting Karl to feel left out, and his fellow Scout looked up belatedly.

"Karl Heohil." he said around his mouthful of food, then blinked and swallowed, staring for a few moments at Alfred and Arthur as they continued to bicker heedlessly, unnoticing of the new arrival. He then looked at Matthew. "Are they _always_ like this?"

Matthew chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "I'm afraid so, eh. They're best friends, believe it or not."

Karl watched the other two for a few seconds, as Arthur was now attempting to strangle Alfred for calling him a "cranky old know-it-all". Alfred, due to his somewhat bulkier and more muscular frame, was badly hiding laughter as he easily held off the slightly smaller man. Karl sweatdropped. "I certainly wouldn't want to know how they treat their enemies." he muttered, and Matthew laughed.

"Oh, you've made a new friend?" Arthur suddenly asked, spotting Karl as Matthew quickly muffled his snicker. Karl bowed his head slightly, continuing to eat. "Karl Heohil. Scout." he repeated in a monotone, and Arthur's brow furrowed.

"That surname sounds like an Aureus's." he said scornfully, and Karl looked up as he continued belligerently. "Are you a half-breed?"

"Leave him alone, eh." Matthew said defensively, and Karl glanced at him.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. See?" he said quickly, silently showing them the backs of his hands, which were blank. "No brand, no nothing. I'm clean."

"My apologies then." Arthur murmured into his cup, and Alfred beamed.

"Dude, but that means you're, like, from the 'fringes!" he said excitedly, using the informal name for some of the farthest-flung territories of the Empire, so far-flung in fact that some Roman citizens considered them to be nearly foreign. Many of the people there would adopt Aureus names to better pacify their occasionally violent neighbors.

"Huh?" Karl asked, then blinked. "Oh, yeah, the 'fringes. They're alright, I guess. Not much different from here, to be honest."

 _Did he hesitate?_ Matthew wondered, looking at Karl out of the corner of his eye. Karl seemingly caught the look and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. It was a rather long trip for me, I'm still tired."

Matthew smiled back. "No kidding. I'm pretty tired myself." he agreed, and they both chuckled. As they continued to chat amicably, Matthew found out that Karl was unemployed, orphaned, and had been a drifter ever since he had graduated secondary school, which certainly explained his skinny body and messy, ragged haircut. Despite his apparent misfortunes, however, he seemed to be a naturally cheerful soul, and laughed them away.

"Driftin' isn't as bad as you might think." Karl explained as he reached for a piece of pie. "People can be a lot nicer than you'd expect, especially if you offer to work for some food and/or shelter. Don't need much money, and my portal case has everything I need. What about you?"

"Nothing as interesting as all that." Matthew admitted sheepishly, scratching his cheek. "I grew up in the suburbs with my mom and dad and Alfred. He's my cousin, and since we lived on the same street we hung out a lot. Arthur's not related to us but he's been Al's BFF since forever, so he almost feels like family at this point."

"Nice." Karl said through a mouthful of his dessert, chewing in a savoring sort of way. He probably hadn't had pie in years. He swallowed and reached for his drink. "I've met a coupla friends on the road, but nobody really like a _family_ , y'know?" he admitted, then shrugged and grinned at Matthew's worried look. "Eh, it's really not all that bad. I'm a lonely sort of soul and solitude is what I like."

Alfred beamed as he saw Mattie chatting and laughing with his new friend. It was nice to see that he wouldn't retreat into a corner like he usually did when forced to socialize with other people.

"May I sit down?"

Looking up through his glasses, Alfred did a slight double-take. That freakishly tall dude –Ivan, he remembered vaguely– was standing over him with a pleasant and slightly intimidating smile. His violet eyes seemed to be gleaming predatorily. "Er, yeah, sure…" Alfred mumbled, a tiny bead of sweat running down his cheek. Ivan's smile widened as his eyes closed, and he sat down with a slight thump. " _Spasibo_."

Alfred shivered as the other calmly began to eat, scooting away slightly. Although Ivan outwardly seemed to be a cheerful sort of person, he was…scary. Not that he, Alfred F. Jones, was scared of another adolescent, but if he were, it would totally be a towering eternally-smiling giant person like him.

"Bogey walk over your grave?" Arthur muttered from his other side, and Alfred blinked and faced him.

"Wha, me? Er, no, I'm fine…"

"Perhaps he is feeling sick due to his unhealthy diet." a cheery voice commented, and Alfred stiffened and turned around again. Ivan was smiling angelically as he indicated the burger, fries, and packet of chips on Alfred's plate. He seemed unaware of the fact that he was doing anything wrong. "I know that if I had to eat that every day I would fall over and die."

"What I eat is none of your business." Alfred snapped defensively, drawing his tray closer to himself. It'd taken him forever to slim down enough to be counted as a Soldier candidate! He didn't need this guy shoving in with his stupid creepy comments and stupid creepy smile and stupid –hang on, what was that on his hand?

Alfred's sapphire eyes blinked slightly as he glanced at the back of one of Ivan's broad, pale hands, which was casually resting on the table. Tattooed –no, _branded_ – between the web of his finger and thumb was a half-moon. His eyes moved up again, and he saw a subconscious flicker in Ivan's eyes as the other's hand slipped off the table, obviously recognizing the movement of his eyes. "You're a half-breed." he accused after a few seconds, and Ivan smiled pleasantly, his eyes closing.

"I was not aware that parentage made a difference when one is learning how to kill people, Jones." he said happily, and his violet – _violet_ , of _course_ – eyes opened again. "Although if I continue dealing with people such as you I'm sure I will find our courses very easy. You have a natural gift for saying things that make killing seem very easy."

A chill ran down Alfred's spine, but he fought back a gulp as his eyes steeled. He didn't take this sort of thing from Arthur, no way was he gonna take it from a creep like this. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?" he barked, and Ivan cocked his head, looking slightly lost, as if he hadn't expected Alfred to snap.

"Oh, have I offended you? I'm so terribly sorry. I was not aware that observing the obvious was something that angers you." he said apologetically, but with a slight smile playing around his lips. Alfred's hand tensed on the soda can he was holding, crumpling the fragile metal slightly.

"Fuck off."

"Such terrible language." Ivan said in amazement as he picked up a bottle of something that looked rather like contraband (and alcohol), taking a sip. "Do we really learn that sort of thing here?"

"I learned it on my _own_ , thank you _very_ much." Alfred hissed, his temper rapidly fraying. As Matthew had often observed (and exploited) growing up, Alfred did not cope well with passive-aggressive tactics.

"Such a well-rounded household you must've had, to learn so much." Ivan observed cheerily as the soda can crumpled under Alfred's fist, and Arthur grabbed the other blonde by the shoulder when he would've shot to his feet.

"Don't let him aggravate you." he hissed in Alfred's ear, and Alfred glared murderously at Ivan, his hands curling into fists. The tall half-breed smiled innocently and took another sip of his alcoholic beverage.

"You are quite a temperamental person, mister Jones." he observed, continuing to calmly eat his meal as Alfred fumed silently beside him. Arthur kept a careful eye on the both of them, not entirely sure whether or not Alfred –or Ivan– would come to blows. Ivan kept commenting, innocently commenting, his words digging like barbs under Alfred's skin, pricking constantly at his slowly rising temper as the bespectacled blonde snapped and growled. Arthur could clearly see that Ivan wasn't talking for nothing; perhaps he was testing Alfred's limits, perhaps he was simply enjoying watching Alfred squirm. Either way, there was cool intelligence behind those violet eyes, and malice lurking in those casual words.

"Bugger off." Arthur finally snapped, and Ivan's mouth closed as he looked at Arthur with faux surprise.

"Why? Am I doing something wrong?" he asked sweetly, and Arthur's eyes narrowed. _I will not be drawn into this ridiculous game._ He reminded himself sharply, and jabbed a finger at the innocently beaming giant.

"You know exactly what you're doing wrong, and I'm telling you to _stop_." he said firmly, and Ivan clicked his tongue, smiling slightly.

"I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Bollocks!" Arthur ejaculated in frustration. "I'm leaving; Alfred, if you're wise, you'll do the same." he snapped, taking his tray and tablet and marching off towards another table. He refused to play mind games with a–a _half-breed_ when he _should_ be able to enjoy his meal in peace. Alfred did not follow, probably out of some ridiculous conflict of ego or pride. Or both. The prat certainly had enough of the two.

He spotted the other Intelligence rank canidate –Luke, his name was– at the nearest table and marched over, politely tapping him on the shoulder. "Do you mind terribly if I join you?" he asked, and Luke looked up at him wordlessly. He stood up, carrying his tray, and nodded jerkily towards the seat he had just vacated.

"Sit there."

Arthur stared after the other man as he walked off, a question mark popping up above his head as Luke instantly took his former place between Ivan and Alfred. "Unsociable fellow." Arthur mumbled to himself with a shrug, sitting down. He observed his new tablemates carefully as he situated himself, making sure that if he had to pick and choose his alliances he could at least make an educated guess. The southerner who had been chatting with that pretty-boy Francis was here, talking amicably with a red-eyed boy with hair so blonde it was practically– no, it _was_ white, cropped short around his head in a style very similar to Arthur's. The albino –for albino he surely must be– caught Arthur's nonplussed stare and gave him a sidelong wink, grinning wickedly, as he continued to discuss the "possibility of acquiring somethin' alcoholic" with "Toni". Arthur was glad there was an empty seat between them.

On his other side was another empty seat, and then beside _that_ was an extraordinarily tall man –probably southern as well, given his darkened skin and hair– eagerly shoveling food into his mouth, his amber eyes bright with excitement. Given his tallness–and the fact Arthur hadn't caught his name beforehand– he was probably one of the Soldiers. "Arthur Kirkland, Intelligence." he said quietly, trying to avoid being heard by the two loudly chattering people to his far left and across the table.

The amber-eyed man stopped slurping down his drink and beamed at him, grabbing his hand and pumping it eagerly. "Sadiq Adnan! Soldier!" he said, far too loudly, confirming Arthur's guess as the latter winced painfully. The two across the table stopped chattering to each other and looked at the pair of them at Sadiq's loud voice, and Arthur sneakily suppressed another wince.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. Soldier." the albino said wickedly, raising his drink in a mock toast. Arthur vaguely remembered that there was a "Beilschmidt" with two sons in charge of one of the nearby sectors; he wondered if this was one of them. He decided against asking; he'd find out eventually if that was the case, and Gilbert did not look like someone who needed a bigger ego.

"Antonio Carriedo. Soldier!" the southerner said cheerfully, smiling brightly. His teeth were very white against his naturally tanned skin, much like Sadiq's, and his voice was colored with a slightly similar accent. Arthur figured that he came from roughly the same region.

"Arthur Kirkland. Intelligence." he repeated, taking a sip of his tea as the other two instantly lost interest in him and continued their conversation, and Sadiq nodded to him absently before he continued to eat like an animal starved of food. Arthur sighed happily to himself as he continued to drink his tea, glorying in the calm silence as he pulled out his tablet again and began to read.

"Ohonhonhonhon~ _Bonjour, rosbif!_ "

Arthur tensed all the way up and nearly spat out his tea, turning to glare murderously at the source of _those_ words. He'd lived close enough to the Norman border for long enough to know what their language sounded like. That _pretty boy Francis_ was sitting at the once-empty seat on his left, smirking at him with his stupid Norman face. "Afternoon." he ground out, murder slowly seeping into his aura. Francis laughed that _damn_ laugh, and tossed his stupid sparkly hair.

"Did someone drop ashes in your precious leaf water, _rosbif_?"

"Piss off, you flower-tossing she-male."

The other three at the table had the audacity to snicker. "I had no idea the Norman-Saxon hatred was so ingrained into the populace." Gilbert muttered to Antonio, naming the two adjacent sectors –Francis's and Arthur's respectively– that were infamous for their many conflicts and petty rivalries. Arthur ignored them.

"I was perfectly fine until you came along. Sod off." he snarled to Francis, who was smirking evilly at him.

" _Moi_?!" the Norman gasped in false innocence, placing a hand over his heart. "Such cruel words! I came here to eat with my friends, not to be brutally attacked!" He indicated Gilbert and Antonio, who beamed –or leered, in Gilbert's case– and waved. Arthur's hand clenched around his spoon, nearly bending it, and he grabbed Francis by the collar and dragged him down to his own level, seemingly forgetting his earlier advice to Alfred. His green eyes stabbed into Francis's wickedly glimmering blue.

" _ **Piss. Off.**_ " Arthur snarled under his breath, and Francis grinned, obviously readying a retort.

However, the two were suddenly pulled apart by the sleepy-eyed looking Heracles, who had just arrived on the scene. Despite his drowsy appearance and mussed-up hair, he was surprisingly strong and well-built. "Fighting is against corps rules." the brunette said with a yawn, looking slowly from one to the other. "Do you want to make Lieutenant Cinthinum angry?"

Arthur and Francis instantly sat down.

Heracles nodded once and slunk into the seat beside Arthur, looking tired (although to be fair, it seemed like that was his natural state) as Sadiq bristled from beside him. "Hey buddy, I don't think I gave you permission to sit here." he said indignantly, and Heracles slowly turned to face him.

"Why? Are you saving this spot for someone?" he asked with more alertness –and attitude– than Arthur had yet seen from him, and Sadiq jabbed a finger repeatedly into the sleepy-eyed brunette's chest.

"No, but I don't like my personal space being invaded, and your attitude isn't too clean either, _Jerkcles_." he said confrontationally, and Heracles narrowed his eyes, pushing the finger away with one slow hand.

"Hands off. This uniform is new." he said angrily –although, Arthur noted with a detached and horrified sort of amusement, his voice still sounded drowsy.

Realizing that there was a confrontation brewing (more like imminent), he quickly returned to his tea, doing his damnedest to ignoring the stupidly laughing Francis, who was now blathering to Antonio and Gilbert about something that Arthur darkly suspected was irrelevant to life in general, and nudging him irritatingly every few seconds. Arthur buried himself in his tablet and tea and ferociously ignored his surroundings, trying not to count the minutes until their meal was over.

Despite his best efforts, as the argument on his right side became more and more heated and Francis's nudges became more and more annoying, Arthur glanced at the time on his tablet.

Twenty minutes until the end of the meal.

He _wanted_ to groan and let his head fall into the table, but his dignity as a Saxon would never let him. He did let out a long-suffering sigh, which was unfortunately noticed by Francis, and Arthur jumped as the nudging elbow suddenly dug deep into his side.

"Ohonhonhonhon~! Is our discussion too complex for you, _rosbif_?" Francis asked slyly, and Arthur's eyes shot daggers at the morbidly grinning Norman.

"As if I would listen to your inane conversation. You vex me." he muttered through clenched teeth, and Francis dared to sling an ingraining arm over his shoulder and poke his cheek.

"Losing your temper after such trifles? _Mon dieu_ , how pitiful. Big Brother Francis could help teach you how to be a better Intelligence officer~!"

That jibe, as well as the hand around his body that was descending to dangerously inappropriate levels, finally broke him.

Arthur swore loudly and stood, furiously snatching up his cup, tray, and tablet and heading towards the third –and last– table. He couldn't believe the cadets in this place! Alfred, of course, was guaranteed to be annoying, but he'd honestly expected better of him than to fall instantly into a petty rivalry! And the fact that he would be expected to share living space with a _Norman_ , of all things, was absolutely despicable. Arthur dreaded the possibility of actually sharing a unit with him. For the love of all things holy, couldn't he eat a meal in peace?!

He slowed as he approached the table, waiting to see whether or not it would even be worth his time to sit down. He could see that both of the Nurses were sitting here, almost directly across from each other, accompanied by what seemed to be two Scouts and a Soldier. There was an empty space between one of the Scouts and one of the Nurses –Lovino and Kiku respectively, Arthur vaguely remembered. On Lovino's left side was Feliciano (definitely his brother, almost certainly his twin), excitedly talking to the heavyset Ludwig, who was steadily plowing his way through the meal, probably paying very little practical attention to the bubbly Nurse. Lovino was glaring at Ludwig as he shoveled food into his mouth, as if waiting for him to make some kind of transgress. On Kiku's right and Ludwig's left was Wang Yao, who was daintily eating his meal with a pair of some kind of sticks. Kiku was using the same utensils.

They seemed safe enough. With muttered permission, Arthur sat down between Lovino and Kiku.

He began to eat and drink again, this time defensively, as he listened to the ongoing conversations around him. Apparently Lovino and Feliciano were indeed twins (he mentally filed the information away for later usage), and former schoolmates of Ludwig (Lovino disliked him for some unknown reason, but Feliciano seemed to enjoy his presence immensely). Kiku and Yao they had just met. Yao seemed content to remain silent, and Kiku mimicked him, although he did answer questions addressed to him. However, he did so with such marvelous deflections and generalities, he was hardly contributing to the conversation at all. Arthur was impressed (and slightly jealous), seeing as that sort of secretiveness was key to being an Intelligence officer.

"Vee~! I'm so glad they serve pasta, aren't you glad Kiku?!"

"I will reflect on it."

"My apologies for Feliciano, Honda. He chatters."

"Hmm."

"Hey, are ya ever going to speak up?"

"We shall see, Lovino-san."

Yao held himself aloof from this conversation, eating some kind of dumplings slowly and methodically. The southerner had a vaguely snooty air about him that made Arthur (unreasonably, as far as he could tell) deck him in the face. Perhaps it was the turned-up nose. Regardless of all that, however, Arthur heaved a mental sigh of relief, because the table was full and as far as he could tell, none of the people here were going to blow up at each other or at him. Lovino was the only one (besides Yao) who even looked grumpy, and Lovino seemed too afraid of Ludwig's muscles to actually yell at or attack the larger Soldier, the obvious source of his discontent.

"Pardon me."

Arthur turned slightly to see Kiku regarding him with solemn brown eyes. "You are drinking Green Tea, _hai_? he asked politely, and Arthur brightened slightly.

"Yes. Are you a tea drinker?" he asked with formal eagerness, and the faintest shadow of a smile crossed Kiku's face.

"Hai. Tea is so wonderful, it is an excellent way to relax after a long day."

"Yes, it is marvelous."

"Marvelous, _hai_."

"Marvelous."

From beside them, Lovino slammed his forehead onto the table.

 _I'm surrounded by idiots._

 _ **8.43 PM, USA Central Time**_


	6. Making Tracks

**_Hello my wonderful contingent of viewers, it is nice to see ya'll again. I've been working my butt off, earning money to pay for a school trip to Germany, so that's why this has taken so long. I will be continuing to do, so…updates will be few and far between. Maybe. Maybe not. I dunno. Lately I've been too listless to do much of anything. (Mayhaps if you give me lots of nice reviews I'll be more motivated.) I decided to introduce some of the Aureus characters sooner than I'd intended because I lost interest in this chapter about halfway through, and I knew I really,_** _really **needed to get something out on the net.**_

 ** _July 20, 2016_**

 _3rd Person POV:_

Yao mouthed furious curses in his local southern dialect as he struggled to keep from falling off the seemingly sheer brick wall, his shoes scuffing against the tiny protrusions left there for the express purpose of assisting the trainees as his fingernails dug desperately into the equally pre-planned cracks. Karl –who had gone before him– had swarmed up the wall and was already perched at the top, looking uncertainly down at his fellow Scout and clearly debating giving him a helping hand. Yao muttered an unflattering curse on Karl's ancestors, as the street urchin had probably already learned wall-scaling for –in all likelihood– semi-nefarious food-gathering purposes.

He was exceedingly glad of his ponytail, as the fine hair of his bangs was already beginning to stick to his temples with sweat, and despite the exceeding plainness of his black uniform, he was also suddenly thankful for its breathability. Now he knew what that ridiculous belly-scarf was for; to keep his midriff covered while also providing flexibility and fresh air.

" _Yù sù zé bù dá_." he murmured to himself, shifting his grip slightly and digging his toes deeper into the slight projection offered by one of the bricks. "More haste, less speed."

He slowly began to advance up the wall again, and waited for what had thrown him off the first time –a gust of wind. When it came, as it did after several minutes, he instantly pressed his forehead against the rough stone and clenched his fingers tightly, waiting it out as the wind tugged roughly at his clothes and hair. Karl had scaled the wall quickly enough that he hadn't even needed to take these little pauses and breaks, as the lucky northerner had gone right in the middle of a calm spell and scampered up like a money in a tree.

He was interrupted by a hand tapping his shoulder, and looked up in shock to see Karl hanging vertically down the side of the wall above him. The only thing that kept the other Scout anchored to the wall was a complicated –and extremely precarious-looking– hold at the top with his feet and upper legs. "Need a hand?" he asked, his bluish eyes concerned.

" _Xiànzài nǐ zhǐshì xuànyào!_ (Now you're just showing off!)" Yao hissed without thinking, furiously, and Karl blinked twice.

"Eh?"

The southerner gritted his teeth and smacked Karl's hand away. "We are being timed, and you're wasting mine!" he barked, shuffling to the side. The other Scout's lip pushed outward in a slight pout of hurt, but then he curled his body upwards and returned to the top, straddling the barrier with a complete lack of fear at the dizzying height. Yao muttered a few more choice curses as he scrambled up the last few feet, and locked his legs tightly around the thin stone ledge. He wasn't going to budge for no one or nothing. The two of them then looked down across the training field, seeing Matthew released from the starting line and sprinting across the crater-strewn grey earth.

The field itself was in the shape of a gigantic stadium, with the starting line –nothing more than the doorway into the field, overshadowed by a large balcony from which the training officers were watching– and the brick climbing wall on opposite ends of the stadium. The wall itself, as the Scouts had noticed just prior to their entry, could be raised and lowered; for the Battlefield Medics, who had gone just before them, it was only half a dozen yards high, but someone had thrown a lever or pushed a button just before Lovino (who had gone first) had stepped out, and with a grinding, grating, rumbling roar, the wall had risen out of the ground to eventually reach at least a hundred meters.

The whole field, in actuality, could be altered. Neither Yao nor Karl had any real idea of what it had looked like before, with the Battlefield Medics, as the only impression they had gotten was a mass of craters and tangles of metal, cloth, and large heaps of junk, simulating the havoc-strewn battlefield that the BMs would have to navigate quickly and efficiently, with the heavy loads of wounded comrades or medicine –or both.

Scouts, however, relied on speed, agility, and endurance, and their playing field had been leveled into a rough, broken terrain, dotted with obstacles designed to slow down and exhaust them. The shelled-out holes that were typical of the Roman Empire's countryside, at least in the regions that they would be fighting in, offered many treacherous and tricky footholds that the average Scout must learn to navigate, as did vast the swathes of mud and wide stretches of freezing-cold water. While the dirt was mostly soft, the craters' edges were often hard and crumbly, and the numerous rocks studding the landscape may or not may be firmly rooted in the ground. The cold sucked energy from one's limbs, and the muddy ground stuck to one's shoes, slowing them down and hampering their progress.

While none of the other Scouts had seen and judged Lovino's run, Yao had noticed that Karl, while able to scale walls and other obstacles like a monkey, had difficulties in running across the open ground and Karl, in turn, had seen that Yao had trouble with climbing, while he was fairly adept at covering distance. Both were issues the two of them would need to work on before they graduated from the academy. Matthew, on the other hand, seemed to be doing fine with all the obstacles, although he was much slower than both Yao and Karl combined.

Karl eventually clicked his tongue and slung his leg over the other side of the wall as Yao screeched in surprise, sliding down like a cat with his hands and feet the only thing stopping the brunette from free-falling down 100 feet to the ashy ground. "Do you have _a death wish_!?" Yao roared as Karl touched down on the ground, and the street urchin looked up and gave him a sheepish smile.

* * *

 _In the Aureus Mountains_

* * *

" _Emil! Emil, wake up!_ "

His hazy blue-violet eyes opened, then widened sharply as he saw Matthias hovering above him, his blue eyes wide with alarm. The other blonde wasted no time in seizing Emil by his scruffy tunic and hauling him off of his cot, shoving him towards his meager pile of clothing. " _Dress for cold weather, quickly! The Romans are here!_ " he hissed, before whirling out of the room and nearly slamming the thin wooden door off its hinges. Emil instantly began piling on his clothing as fast as humanly possible, although his vision was still clouded and every muscle was sluggish from sleep. It didn't matter what caused it –late deliveries, possible insurrection, or perhaps because they were just plain bored– the Romans would come to their little fishing village of Avens for one and only one reason.

Mathias burst through the door again, this time succeeding in knocking it off its hinges, as Emil was dragging on a ragged coat. " _No time! Come!_ " he barked, grabbing Emil by the sleeve and dragging him through the crazily swinging door. Emil stumbled on the broken wooden slats of his home, and then the both of them were ankle-deep in rapidly melting snow. Emil's blue-violet eyes widened as he saw several dozen of the meager fishing huts of his neighbors set alight, but Matthias wasn't stopping, the two of them darting into the dancing shadows in an attempt to stave off the eyes of their attackers.

Emil constantly glanced over his shoulder as Matthias dragged him along through the freezing snow, seeing the uniformed Romans clubbing down any escaping Aureus they saw, sometimes even kicking them back into their burning homes. He felt hot tears well up in his eyes as his own home shot up in flames, and looked away, scrubbing his face on the tattered cloth of his tunic. " _Where are we going?_ " he asked plaintively as he and Matthias ducked into the shelter of a rocky outcropping, and Matthias jerked his chin towards the black, inky waters of the harbor.

" _We're escaping. They can't have burned all the boats yet._ " he hissed, and Emil swallowed hard.

" _Will we be able to sail the ship on our own?_ " he asked tremulously, and a flicker of Matthias's usual smile crossed his face as he ruffled Emil's white-blonde hair.

" _It's not as if we're stealing a longboat. We just need to get away from the village._ " he chuckled, and they both flinched and looked up as one of the huts exploded. Bits of burning wood and rubble rained down upon the snow, sending sizzling streams up into the frosty night air as the screaming of the villagers intensified.

" _The storage building!_ " Emil yelped in surprise, gaping at the now-shelled-out hut, which had held their entire winter supply of dried fish.

" _We need to hurry._ " Matthias gasped, grabbing Emil by the sleeve again and pelting down to the docks. Emil swallowed hard. He missed his big brother. Lukas would know what to do in this situation. But he had left years ago, vanished, and while Matthias was a good big-brother substitute, he still wasn't Emil's _real_ big brother.

" _How do they expect us to pay the rest of our taxes with the fish gone?_ " Emil panted as they struggled through the drifts of snow, sweating under the many layers of his tattered clothes. " _We'll be weeks repairing the huts, just like always, and only after we've rebuilt everything can we start fishing! How do they expect us to survive?!_ "

" _They don't._ " Matthias replied grimly, tugging him through another snowbank. " _Aureus are worthless. Aureus should just die. They can always get their fish from another worthless Aureus village before they burn **that** down too_."

Emil swallowed his wail of " _That's not **fair**!_ " before it even escaped his throat. He'd had plenty of practice swallowing protests about the unfairness in his life. All the Aureus did. It was something they learned from birth.

Both he and Matthias jerked to a stop as they saw the docks. Under ordinary circumstances, the fragile wooden pilings would be empty at this time of night, the small family boats and the larger fishing vessels moored as securely as their worn ropes could hold. Puffins would be bobbing in the night-black water, perhaps sleeping, perhaps rising up with some fish of their own.

Instead, the boats were burning, sheets of fire reflecting off of the obsidian waves, and the puffins were screeching, wheeling above the heads of the two escaping Aureus. " _They…must have started with the boats._ " Matthias managed after a few moments, and Emil nodded mutely, shivering in horror.

"Hey! You!"

Both Aureus whipped around at the commanding shout in Latin, and Emil's eyes widened as he saw several of the Roman soldiers pelting towards them. He yelped as Matthias whirled him around and bolted for the burning docks.

" _Change of plans. Swim for it!_ " Matthias gasped, and Emil shrieked as he was heaved into the sea and the icy black water closed over his head. He thrashed to the surface, the saltwater soaking into his clothing and weighing him down like he had been dunked into heavy mud instead of water. Nevertheless, he instantly struck out from the docks. He didn't know where he was going and he honestly didn't care; he going anywhere but the shore and that was enough. Emil fell into gasps as he slowly wove through the burning ships, and found one that had drifted away from its rope and was burned right down to the hull, clinging onto it frantically as he looked over his shoulder for Matthias.

" _Matthias!_ "

The elder blonde was struggling with the Roman soldiers, and losing, badly. Blood flecked the snow from a cut on Matthias's shoulder, and he was barely able to move that arm, but he still fought the soldiers back, using a broken bit of wood he had wrenched from the dock. " _Swim, Emil! Swim! Don't wait for me!_ " he commanded, then cried out as he was backhanded across the face. Emil pushed away from the boat, and closed his eyes against the hot burn of tears as he began to swim away from the docks.

It seemed as if he had lost another big brother.

 **12.00 PM, USA Central Time**


	7. Snow Lily

**People are beginning to piece it together, yay. I will neither confirm nor deny** _CheeseTail_ _'s **guess (hello again by the way), but I will remind you that your suspect was seen multiple times fiddling with his bangs and covering them with his hat. (Native/pure-born Aureus have the half-moon brand on their forehead, in case I haven't mentioned it before.) And he was uncomfortable with several normal Roman aspects. And that the droid thingy paused before OK-ing him. Nope, not gonna say anything about that at all. Hi again to**_ _FallenWaterTheFallen_ _, **thank you for your mutiplicitous reviews.**_ _Guest_ _,_ _**thank you for your concern over Emil. As you will soon see, he's fine. Also, the Aureus chapters will be named after various flowers and natural things, while the normal chapters will be named after military-type stuff. It keeps things interesting. I'm also sorry it took me so long to update this, but although I've been working at my job, I've also been writing/adapting the script for the English fandub of**_ ** _Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni_ _that my sister and I will be doing. (Self-endorsement, yay.) Basically the one-out-of-two-seasons-and-one-character-having-a-Texan-accent-in-the-goddamn-middle-of-1980s-Japan official dub is a disgrace to the whole-hearted awesomeness of the show and we want to fix it. And even though it's just the two of us voicing every last one of the characters, male and female, from 50 years old to 11, at least our dub will be done with love and care and honor to the show. (Plus if South Park can do it, so can we.) I'm 17 episodes in on the first season, which has 26 episodes. The second season has 24. Wish me luck folks, script-writing is way harder than writing fiction._**

 _ **August 27, 2016**_

 _3rd Person POV:_

Emil groaned as he awoke. His mouth tasted of salt, his skin covered by the itchy, sticky substance. He could hear the familiar shrill cries of the puffins as they wheeled above his head, and his lower legs were soaking wet, the blue-black waves of the ocean lapping gently at his submerged trousers. His cheek and torso was pressed uncomfortably against a rough, rocky surface, and his whole body felt freezing and heavy. The sun was shining weakly through the grey clouds, and he smelled both ashes and smoke, overlaying and overlapping the salty stench of the sea.

He groaned again and tried to pull himself from the water, but was too exhausted to do so. All he could remember was swimming, swimming for his life as bullets peppered the water around his body and Matthias's cries faded behind him. He'd swam until he couldn't swim anymore and then, mercifully, had found a small rocky reef just as he was verging upon the edge of exhaustion. He'd collapsed upon it and promptly slipped into unconsciousness; regardless of how close it may or may have been to shore, he could not have moved another inch.

" _Braak…brraak…_ "

Emil wearily raised his head. One of the puffins had landed a few feet away from him, and was staring at him curiously with its black button eyes. It tilted its head to the side and cawed again.

" _Go 'way._ " Emil slurred, making a pathetic attempt to shoo it away with the hand not griping the rock. " _'M not dead._ "

The puffin flapped away from his nerveless fingers and landed with a short hop, even closer to him than before. It clicked its beak several times, seeming to peer closely at his face as Emil watched it apathetically. He'd fed the puffins before, whenever he and his brothers had any fish or scraps to spare –the short birds didn't need all that much to begin with. He knew that they were social animals, mating for years with the same partner and refusing to colonize a breeding cliff without the presence of neighbors. Maybe this puffin was recognizing him as a friend. Emil smiled briefly at the absurd thought.

The puffin suddenly took off, and Emil closed his eyes again, grunting and groaning as he continued trying to haul himself further out of the freezing water. He was shivering hard, and he could tell from the familiar prickling agony in his limbs and chattering of his teeth that he was close to hypothermia. If he could just get out of the water and reassess how close he was to shore, he might be able to swim back and start a fire before he froze to death. After several minutes, he finally managed to haul his aching, exhausted body fully out of the ocean, and curled up on the tiny portion of the rock that actually stuck out from the water, pressing his bony knees to his chest.

His blue-violet eyes wearily scanned the horizon, and he discerned that he was barely out of the harbor, the ruined hulls of the burned-down fishing boats drifting about inside, imprisoned by the high cliffs and a host of reefs similar to the one Emil was currently perched upon. It was probably a ten-minute swim back, counting the rests he would have to take on the floating wrecks.

The shivering Aureus was suddenly broken out of his thoughts by a blur of movement, and he blinked several times as a puffin –it was hard to tell, but he was fairly certain it was the same one from before– swooped down in front of him, landing on the minuscule portion of rock not occupied by the human's body. In its beak were several small fish –the fisherman in Emil recognized them as herring. Emil regarded it blankly as the puffin fluttered forward, and it dipped its head, laying the fish on one of his tattered boots. It squawked several times and pecked gently at his ankle, as if encouraging him to eat its bounty.

Slowly, the Aureus uncurled and reached for the herring, watching the puffin cautiously. In all of his fifteen years, he had learned that generosity rarely happened without reason, and could sometimes be more trouble than it was worth. He bit down on the head of one of the fish and ripped it off –it wasn't the first and was unlikely to be the last time he had eaten raw fish– and started to chew as the puffin clacked its beak and fluttered up to perch on his knee. Emil watched it with interest as he ate, and it seemingly ignored him as it busily preened itself. He supposed –perhaps– that feeding the puffins hadn't been the waste of time and precious food that his parents had said it was.

" _Hello. I think I will call you Mr. Puffin._ " he said softly, gingerly running his fingers along the bird's head as it fluffed up its feathers in return, as if invitingly him to preen it further. " _Thank you for feeding me. I will be going back to shore now. I hope you find many fish and lay many eggs with your mate._ "

He extended his leg and the puffin –as expected– flapped indignantly off his knee with a squawk. He sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and slid into the water, beginning to swim wearily towards shore without looking back at the bird. Keeping attachments was generally a bad idea in his class of people and he honestly expected the bird to forget about him within a few days, if not a few minutes.

However, to Emil's astonishment, as he frantically gasped the first of the sagging, half-sunken ships, the puffin landed on it as well, tilting its head from side to side as it inspected him closely, as if wondering why he did not spread his wings and flap over the offending obstacles. " _I do not have time for you._ " Emil told it as firmly as he could through his gasping breathes, panting hard as he searched the water for the nearest floating hulk. " _I do not have any food._ "

The puffin clicked its beak and took wing as he shoved away from the rotten wood, and he swam doggedly towards his next target. His multiple layers of clothing were heavy with water, dragging him down, and he ached fiercely from the cold, but he kept swimming. He, like all Aureus, had long ago learned to work and move through discomfort and pain. His main opponent here was exhaustion, although he felt plenty of that. There was a very real possibility that he'd just sink into the depths and drown –and he almost felt tempted to let it happen. His big brother Lukas was gone, ran away to who-knew-where several years ago. His parents were both dead; his father worked to the bone, his mother lost in a fishing accident. The last he had seen of Matthias was hot blood spattered across the snow and a body collapsing, silhouetted against the dancing light of the flames. Emil had no one and nothing. He might as well die.

 _Squawk_.

Emil looked up again wearily as the puffin once more landed on his makeshift raft. " _I have no food for you. I have nothing._ " he told it dully, and it flapped its wings violently several times, as if berating him. It leaped into the air and flew in a tight circle around his head, then looped off towards shore and returned. It landed on the burned wood and clicked its beak angrily near his face. Emil blinked several times.

"… _are you trying to tell me something?_ " he finally sighed, and the puffin bobbed up and down. Emil licked his lips and thought as the freezing water lapped at his shoulders and continued to chill his body. " _I will keep swimming._ " he finally told the bird. " _But do not think this makes you smarter than me._ "

The puffin suddenly took a beakfull of his hair and yanked, before instantly taking off at his yelp of pain and angrily swiping hand. It's caws almost sounded like derisive laughter, and Emil scowled up at it before releasing the tiny boat and beginning to swim again. This continued as he slowly, achingly made his way across the harbor; Emil would find and cling to one of the drifting boats for a few moments, panting and marshaling his energy, before he would launch off of it and continue paddling towards the splintered and charcoaled docks. But finally, after what felt like hours, he grabbed the fragile wood, slowly hauling his bedraggled, frost-bitten body out of the sea.

Emil rolled over and sprawled against the docks, his bony chest rising and falling in huge, racking breathes as his drenched clothes clung to his frame. He felt like he could just lie there forever; however, he knew if he gave into the urge to sleep, he'd be doing exactly that. His wheezing breathes slowed as the puffin promptly landed on his chest, becoming a solid and not entirely comfortable weight over his heart. It ruffled its wings slightly, cocking its head this way and that as Emil stared at it with blank, hazy blue-violet eyes. His feet and hands felt like lumps of ice, and the rest of him wasn't much better off. If he didn't get up soon, he'd freeze to death.

" _Fine_." he eventually sighed to the bird, flexing his aching limbs and sitting up as it cawed approvingly and flapped up into the air. As he stood and turned to trudge back to the village, he caught sight of Matthias's body a few meters away, sprawled out and facedown across the blood-flecked snow.

Emil slowly stumbled over, falling to his knees on the scorched wood with a _thump_ as he looked blankly at his former caretaker's body. Matthias's ragged, patched clothing was covered with rents, tears, and scorch marks, the reddish-brown stains of blood covering both him and the snow. The area around his right shoulder was dark and still wet with the sticky, iron-scented substance, and Emil swallowed hard, touching it gently and grabbing the blood-soaked cloth to roll Matthias over. He or someone else would eventually have the task of stripping the body bare of everything it had of value, down to the last scrap, and he wanted Matthias to at least have the dignity of being face-up when that happened.

Emil froze.

Slowly, with faltering fingers, he pressed his hand hard against Matthias's chest, searching for what he had felt before. What he discovered had him shooting to his feet and pelting along the path to the village, frantic to grab some wood for a fire.

Matthias was still breathing. He was still warm.

 _Matthias was still alive._

 _***Time Skip***_

Emil curled up tightly in front of the crackling fire, his clothing strewn about in front of it to dry, a blanket from one of the few houses still standing wrapped around his bare shoulders. Matthias, placed on top of the most bedding Emil could scrounge up, had been bandaged to the best of his ability, his right arm placed in a sling and bound tightly to his chest, covered with as many blankets as Emil could find.

The younger blonde had not been able to find any other survivors, although footprints leading out of the village through the gullies and cracks of the surrounding mountain cliffs showed that at least some of the other villagers had gotten away. In the depths of winter, few Romans were willing to pursue the scattered escapees of a raid into the bitingly cold snow and wind, and even less of them were willing to follow those escapees into the mountains; Aureus were born climbers, scrambling up the rugged cliffs and faces of their mountains with almost preternatural skill. Any Roman in pursuit would be left behind if they decided to scale the nearest rock face and hunker down in one of the many natural caves dotting the mountains.

Emil himself had just scrambled up in what most Romans would have dismissed out-of-hand as an impossible climb unaided; a sheer cliff roughly forty feet high, one of the lowest of the rock faces that walled in the entire village, leaving only the trade road and path to the harbor open to an ordinary citizen of the Roman Empire. This particular part of the cliffs had eroded over time, leaving a flat area of about six by twenty feet, surrounded by boulders, with a sheer drop on one side and a steep cliff on the other three. The ice-blonde Aureus had not only managed to clamber up to this absurdly easy-to-reach spot (in his mind) with an unconscious Matthias in tow, but later with all of the bedding, blankets, and firewood that he had scavenged, while the average Roman soldier would have had to struggle just to reach the top on their own. Thus, it made the perfect place to hide while they regained their mutual bearings.

Unlike nearly every other night and day in the mountain winter, the howling wind and snow had not swept down from the peaks in a blizzard, so Emil had been able to light the fire and push his foster-brother as close to it as he could, hoping that the warmth would soak into him more quickly. Emil hoped his luck with the weather would hold as he stared into the dancing flames as if hypnotized, shifting an arm underneath the blanket to poke at the logs with a scavenged metal pole. The puffin from before –which had followed him the whole time, only leaving to hunt– landed on his shoulder and began to preen his hair gently.

"… _mil?_ "

Emil stiffened in shock and glanced at the body under the blankets. " _Matthias?_ " he asked tremulously, and the rough cloth shifted slightly as Matthias propped himself up on his one good arm, blinking hazily at the younger Aureus.

" _Where are we?_ " he murmured, glancing down at himself and attempting to flex the arm in the sling. " _What happened?_ "

" _Mountains, outside of Avens. The Romans attacked us._ " Emil muttered shortly, and Matthias blinked his blue eyes several times.

" _I know that; I meant about my arm._ " he corrected in a mutter, slowly sitting up and glancing at the white-blonde boy. " _Emil, there's a bird in your hair._ " he said after a few stunned moments, and Emil automatically raised a hand to aforementioned bird.

" _His name is Mr. Puffin. He's my friend._ " he said defensively, and the black-and-white bird hissed shortly at Matthias before going back to preening Emil's hair. Matthias blinked several times and then shook his head and looked away.

" _Never mind. What are we going to do now?_ " he asked simply, and Emil frowned. Matthias nodded to his currently useless arm. " _Forget about fishing, I'll be lucky if I can eat with this thing. The Romans won't be happy about that, and I can forget about mooching off whoever else survived._ " he said grimly, shifting to sit cross-legged in the same manner as the other blonde.

Emil knew exactly where this was going. " _You can forget about me leaving you behind or giving you a mercy killing._ " he said firmly, leaning forward to stoke the fire again. " _I will need your help._ "

Matthias raised one blonde eyebrow. " _With what?_ "

Emil considered the flames for another long moment. " _The village is practically burned down. Both our parents are gone._ " he told the older man. " _There is nothing and no one to hold us here. I want to find Lukas._ "

There was a pause as Matthias digested that. " _Emil, we have no idea where Lukas went or even if he's still alive._ " he said reluctantly after a while, and Emil nodded slowly. He knew that Matthias had been just as fond of his big brother as he was; there was a reason the spiky-haired blonde was so diligent in looking after Emil, after all. He wasn't hearing a "no", but he also wasn't hearing a "yes".

" _I know. So we will search for him._ " Emil said determinedly, raising a hand to brush against Mr. Puffin's feathers. " _Big brother would have found or stayed in another village eventually. He would have left a trail. We can find him._ " he insisted, and Matthias clicked his tongue.

" _Alright_." he finally said as Emil's face lit up. " _Lukas_ _Bondevik, here we come._ "

 _ **9.08 PM, USA Central Time**_


End file.
